Feels Like Flying
by PotatosGonnaPotate
Summary: She was the broken Amity to Dauntless transfer trying to escape her past and taking initiation like a storm. She didn't have friends, and was accustomed to being ignored. He was the ice-cold, tough-talking Dauntless leader, who no-one dared talk to. But she did, and with her attitude and unquestionable bravery she was going to have to get used to not being ignored any more. Eric/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hey peeps!**

**This is my new story, and if you are new to my writing please go check out my other story, 'Strong Emotions'. **

**So, this is set between Tobias and Tris's initiation, and will be Eric/OC.**

**Quick note - whilst this story is rated T, there will be mentions of abuse, and though I will not go into detail, it will be brought up frequently as it is important to the story lines. If this is triggering to you, please don't read it. If there are any questions don't hesitate to PM me.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

ANNA

_Anna. _His voice runs through my head. _Your parents would have wanted you to be the best Amity you could be._

I scrunch up my face in disgust at the sound of his voice echoing around my head. Lies, all of them. My parents were good people and I know for fact that they would not want the way I've been treated.

Alexander is not an Amity man - he doesn't deserve to even be called Amity. I was once proud to be one, hugging trees, each other and all that, but now I resent the constant good mood that the Amity are in. Every faction has their faults - the Erudite are vain, the Candor are rude, the Abnegation are passive and the Dauntless are cruel. One fault for every faction, except I can find many more in the Amity beliefs. The Amity are kind and caring in nature, but also ignorant and negligent. They ignore those who don't fit in and praise those who do – and if you are to misbehave, stand up for yourself for once in a while you're stuck with a needle full of happy juice. Despite they're close relation to Abnegation, the Amity don't help those who need it. They are too full of their pride – although they would say that such a thing doesn't exist – and don't accept anyone who is different. They would't help you if you weren't of benefit to them.

The Amity can also be abusive.

I almost laugh out loud at how ludicrous that sentence sounds. The words 'abusive' and 'Amity' just don't work well together. Who would think that an Amity, filled to the brim on happiness would even _think _about harming someone?

Not all Amity are kind. It's stupid to belive that we are the only two that don't fit in our faction, after all, I'm sure someone else must be different, but Alexander and certainly don't act the way Amity are meant to act. He lacks the compassion that is expected of him as an Amity and I certainly don't approve of the docile behaviour that all Amity live by. However the Amity, in their negligent ways, don't even pick up on the fact that something is wrong.

The choosing ceremony is already in full swing. Sitting at the very edge of the sea of red, Alexander and I do not talk, not in the way that most Amity would. He has spent almost forty years here and still doesn't know how to express any form of kindness, at least to me, yet still manages to find very creative ways of expressing his rage.

I watch as 'McLeay, Harvey' from Candor picks Erudite. My faction sits right next to Dauntless and as I let my attention drift away from the ceremony I look over to them. I envy the way that they don't have to have permanent smiles etched on their faces – and if not a real smile then a fake one – and how they would be allowed to be openly upset if they wanted to. The Dauntless have the kind of freedom I don't in the stifiling Amity compound.

A boy that looks around my age – maybe a year or so older – catches my eye. His skin is tan and his black hair is cropped. His brown eyes light up jovially when they meet mine, and when he smiles, I see I see dimples appear. I am taken aback with shock - nobody ever smiles at me, even the Amity, who have taken to pretending I don't exist. And Amity isn't the only faction that ignores me, but then, I can't exactly blame the other four. I'm not part of them - I wouldn't fit in with them. Every now and again I have fantasized that someone from Dauntless would discover my situation, or at least notice me, maybe raise me with them. Although my fantasies remain just that – fantasies – and I stay put as the girl who hovers around the edge of the Amity compound until she has to go in, throwing stones into puddles.

But somehow the Dauntless boy still smiles, and I wonder what he got in his aptitude test. Did he get Amity? The Amity smile a lot. He would fit right in. Or did he get Dauntless _and _Amity?

Is he Divergent?

_Of course not. _I scold myself. _The test administrator said that Divergence is very rare._

I jump a bit when I hear Jeanine Matthews call out my name.

"Smith, Anna." I recoil when I hear _Smith. _That's not my name. It's _his _name. The Amity thought it would be easier after my parents' death if I changed my surname. Technically, it was supposed to be my choice whether I changed my surname or not – but like Alexander would allow that. My surname was promptly changed to his and he became my adoptive father. Like I would consider any man other than my birth father a parent of mine.

He turns in his seat and gives me a hard glare, his shoulders back and his chest out. His size and expression are just scare tactics – and I know he won't hurt me here – but I still find myself cowering a little. The look on his face clearly says _choose Amity._

I get up and start to walk to the front, dragging my feet as I walk. My soft brown hair falls over my face and covers it from view, and I use the time to wonder - what faction will I choose? I haven't had the chance to put much thought into it, because after the test I was too shocked to think as I walked home and thinking about what faction you want to choose seems pretty strange while your back is being littered with the imprint of a belt.

I was told I got more than one result. Amity, Erudite... and Dauntless. It was called divergence and supposedly it's a threat to the faction system, therefore incredibly dangerous. I figured I might get Amity – having had their views forced on me since birth, but it's not as if I would actually fit in here.

There is no choice for me – I cannot pick Amity.

Then there is Erudite. The test administrator told me that being under the scrutinizing eye of Jeanine Matthews would be a terrible idea – that I would be identified as Divergent almost immediately by the way I acted. She said she didn't know what would happen if they found out, but I get the feeling she didn't want to scare me. Apparently Amity are easily scared.

Finally, Dauntless. I yearn for their freedom, but I can't help but question myself. If I am not brave enough to make a choice for myself, would I be brave enough to pass Dauntless initiation? To survive there? Am I a coward for wanting to leave Amity because I am scared of one of the men there?

Yet I could get into Dauntless. I could act brave until I actually was – and working in the farms all the time has given me muscle. I could hold my own, hopefully. I wouldn't even need to fit in with them. Almost a lifetime of solitude has gotten me adjusted to working alone, so it's not as if I would need any friends. I think that maybe I could give it a go?

I pick up the knife presented on front of me, hating the cold feel of the metal in my hand – hating the feeling of power that comes with it. I could hurt people with this – hurt them like Alexander hurt me because they did't pay enough attention to help. I could... if I wanted to.

Resenting the knife and myself I draw it across my palm, watching as a thin trail of blood trickles off my hand. It lands with a sizzle on the smouldering coals and before Jeanine speaks I hear her take in a sharp breath

"_Dauntless!"_

Multiple gasps could be heard throughout the auditorium, but I don't focus on anyone other than Alexander. He looks shocked, his dark blue eyes looking almost black in this lighting. Shadows play across his face and he looks even more dangerous than ever – but for once, I don't care. I'm free of him.

Part of me is tempted to smile at him, to show him that he doesn't scare me anymore. I don't, instead I change my gaze to the Dauntless faction – _my _faction – who are cheering loudly for their new initiate. Me. I finally have somewhere where I don't have to be scared every night when I go home.

I join the Dauntless in their seating area and don't pay attention for the rest of the choosing ceremony. One string of words runs through my head:

_I am free._

Once it is finished, the Dauntless rise first and start to run out the building. I run with them, and as I do I observe my fellow initiates.

Two Candor males. They look fairly strong, but I still think that with some training I could be better. I don't worry about them as competition, but judging by the proud and smug expression on their faces I think they will be some to look out for. One Candor female who doesn't look like she'll fit in here at all. She runs like a wounded animal and has a fearful expression on her face. There are two Erudite, one male and on female. I don't think that they'll do particularly badly due to the determined looks on their faces, but I don't think physical strength is their forte.

I join the Dauntless as we climb the railings of the train tracks, and I am the first initiate to be up. I know what happens next – I like to watch the Dauntless. Especially after choosing ceremonies, the transfers always leave half of themselves behind at this part. But there isn't many of us this year, only six if you include me. Last year three people were left behind in an attempt to jump onto the train. I hope that happens this year because then I'll have very little competition.

The train comes along and the crowd of black start pulling themselves on with ease. The muscles in my arm aids me as I grab the handle and swing myself into the cart. Although it isn't big, the amount of muscle I have had already put me at an advantage over the other initiates and I would like to keep it that way.

"Hi there." The Erudite girl says to me. I bet she expects me to talk to her, as my baggy red clothing stands for more than I am. I think for now I won't make friends with these people. If any of us were to have fail – either me or them – the ending would be painful and I don't need any more pain in my life. I'll wait until my life in Dauntless is secure before I even consider making friends.

I ignore her and walk to the other side of the cart. I notice that the Dauntless boy who smiled at me is in this cart too.

I wonder how Alexander is reacting right now. After years of coming home from school every day dreading the belt – which was always worse when he was drunk – I feel no sympathy for that man. I left him out of necessity, because one day I would do something that in his eyes was so wrong, I would end up dead in the orchard. I can't let that happen.

I know that if I were to turn home right now, that day would probably be today and I'd be dead within the hour.

That man did not break me. Here I am now, part of Dauntless and more alive than I've ever been.

I close my eyes and try to relax, but as soon as I do I regret it.

_"Run, Anna!" My father shouts. "Run and get help!"_

I open my eyes again quickly. I mustn't remember – not now, not now when I've just started a new life. I can't let my thoughts torment me as I ride away from my old life.

But the memories persist and I try so hard to not let them swarm my mind but they do, and all I am left thinking about is how my house burst into flames, how my mother screamed for me to go get help, how I ran to a random man for help and when he did nothing how I lay down helplessly and cried. That man I now know is Alexander, and there is nothing he could do to me that could be worse than what I do to myself because of what I did. It's my fault – I should have gotten help elsewhere and maybe I could have prevented them dying.

When I feel the tears prick at my eyes I blink them away. Crying is not worth my time anymore.

"They're jumping!" The Erudite girl cries suddenly and I whip round to where she stands. I follow her gaze out the door of the train and see the Dauntless jumping onto a roof. It makes sense, really. It seems like something Dauntless would do. I notice the large gap between the tracks and the roof, but force myself not to think about it. The height frightens me a little, but I'm not afraid of the fall. I am not scared of dying. It wouldn't be that bad... in fact, ridding the world of my sorry existance would probably be like de-weeding a garden. I'm certainly not suicidal, and I don't have a particular wish for death, but I don't really have much to live for anyway. No, I would never commit suicide, although I can guess a lot of people in my situation would. Amity never talk about it, but I learned it from the books in the school library. I would never give Alexander the satisfaction of me killing myself – and I want to see the day his secrets are exposed and he is cast out.

Not that I want people to know about what he did to me – that would make me seem weak and as I am already from Amity, I don't need to seem any weaker.

I jump as far as I can, and for a second I feel pure weightlessness. It's blissful, and as I sail through the air I let out a small laugh.

Landing rather ungracefully on the stoney ground, I tumble forward a little then notice that I jumped further than the rest of the initiates – and some Dauntless members. I smile – it may be small but it's my first achievement here and I want to savour that.

"That's some jump you've got there, hippie." A male voice speaks up behind me. I turn to see familiar brown eyes and tan skin – the guy from the choosing ceremony.

I nod in acknowledgement but move away quickly before he can strike up a conversation. People don't need to know me, they just need to appreciate I am here.

"Initiates. This is where we test whether you really belong with us, or with the Factionless. Take the jump and we will see whether you are a coward, or whether you are _Dauntless." _A man stands on the ledge, cropped dark blonde hair and a cold face. He has multiple piercings all over and tattoos run up his neck and arms and is very muscular and tall. He could be handsome, if he looked less mean.

"My name is Eric." He says. "Who will be the first jumper?"

They want us to _jump? _Of the edge of the Goddamn building?

I want to say no. Flat out refuse to do what they ask – it seems stupid to die in such a way. Jumping off a building because some guy told you to.

Although... reason clears past the fear in my mind and I realise that they wouldn't just tell us to jump if they wanted to kill us. They could easily do that in other ways. Besides, what if they most promising initiate decided to go first – then the Dauntless would end up losing someone with potential.

I walk up to the wall and glare Eric in the eyes. He just raises and eyebrow.

He steps back as I climb up onto the wall and without even looking down, I jump.

I don't know how long I fall for, and I don't know if I will meet certain death at the bottom but in this moment, I couldn't care less. It's like when I jumped of the train - the feeling of weightlessness and the rush of adrenaline in my veins making me feel almost invincible. I don't want it to end.

I land too soon, sooner than I would like, but when I do, I feel excruciating pain in my back and for a second I believe it is a trick. A stupid joke to see which one of the transfers was stupid enough to jump off a roof. But then I feel the wires or a net digging into the fresh wounds on my back and I hiss through pain. A hand pulls down one side of the net and I begin to roll off, biting my lip to stop myself crying out in pain whenever my back touches the net.

"What's your name, initiate?" I look up at where the deep voice came from and see a man with brown hair, dark blue eyes and a long nose glaring down at me.

It occurs to me then that I could be more than just Anna, the abused Amity transfer. I could be remade here – have a new name and everything. A new identity.

_No. _A little voice in my head says. _Stick with the name your parents gave you – they were the only ones that cared about you. No one does now, so remember those who did._

"Anna." I say quietly.

"First jumper, Anna!" The man calls out.

"I don't believe it. A hippie as the first jumper? Four, you're going to have a tough time deciphering this one." The man – Four – doesn't respond to the girl. Instead he goes back towards the net where a bundle of black and white falls in screaming.

I take a look around the room we're in – if it could even be called that. It resembles a cave mostly, with sharp rocks poking out the walls and dirt beneath my feet. Sound reverberates every time anyone speaks, echoing far down into the dimly lit corridor that leads out of here.

Soon enough, every initiate has jumped. We all group together as Four begins to talk.

"Welcome to Dauntless. My name is Four, and this is Lauren." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see one Candor transfer raise his eyes. Thankfully, he doesn't say anything and I can guess why – you'd be insane to call out this terrifying Dauntless on his strange name.

"Dauntless borns, with me. I'm assuming you don't need a tour of the compound." Lauren says and leads them off along a thin corridor. Four starts to walk off along another and we start to follow him like blind birds helplessly following their mother. We're pathetic, and I doubt the Dauntless will like that. I don't think they'll want to spoon feed us along the way. If we are to be brave, we must do things ourselves.

The corridor we walk along soon breaks into a large space, a very large space actually. At the top is a glass roof but at the bottom there is a sea of black. Fights break out here and there, others sip bottles with their friends and some children run around pushing and shoving each other. It's fantastic, something about Dauntless chaos makes me forget about everything that happened before I got here. It's like my life started here, and up until now the rest has been of little importance.

"This is the pit. The centre of life here in Dauntless. You will spend most of your free time here." He walks us through the pit and I notice the crowd parts when he walks. Others have to push and shove their way through, but it's like they have some sort of really huge fear or loads or respect for him. I didn't think that the Dauntless had levels of respect at all. I guess that us transfer initiates are at the bottom, then.

We make our way out of the pit and I start to hear a noise, like running water. I frown and move to the front of the group. The noise gets louder gradually, until you can no longer hear yourself think.

"This is the chasm!" Four shouts above the sound of rushing water. I pear over the edge and see rocks shining and reflecting the dull lights in the corridor. I can't see any water but there must be some down there.

"This is where we draw the line between bravery and idiocy! A daredevil jump into the chasm will end your life instantly! It has happened before and will happen again, consider yourself warned!" Four shouts.

The rest of the transfers look scared, or bewildered, but I am intrigued. I want to find out _why _some Dauntless members chuck themselves over the edge. And how far is the drop? I doubt any living person could tell me.

Four walks off and we scramble to follow him. He stops at a door and clears his throat so that we all pay attention, although we were all doing so anyway. "This is where you'll be sleeping. Before you ask, boys and girls. There is ten beds, but you won't have a problem deciding where to sleep as there's only five of you." Well someone's not an Erudite. Can't he tell there's six? I look around the group and notice that there is indeed one missing. Four would have noticed if one of us had been left behind, so it must have been before we met him. I take it someone didn't survive the jump, and by the looks of it, it was the Erudite girl.

It doesn't bother me that she spoke to me not long before her death. But maybe she isn't dead? Maybe she didn't jump and is now riding the train into factionless.

"Get changed. I'll meet you in the cafeteria." He ushers up into the room.

"But we don't know where that is!" One of the Candor boys shouts.

"Well ask someone, you are expected to be an independent person." Four replies coldly.

The room is just as badly lit as what I have seen of the rest of the compound so far, and the black bunk beds make the room seem even darker. Ten beds, five bunking pairs. Everyone could have their own bunk bed. But the Candor boys decide to share, the Candor girl taking the one next to them and the Erudite boy taking the next. That leaves two bunks left, and I pick the one furthest away from them. I don't want to interact. People aren't trustworthy. I have also been known to thrash about in my sleep a bit whenever I get nightmares – either of my parents' death or anything to do with Alexander.

I wait for them to change to I can undress without risk of them seeing my bruises or my back, or the lines that litter my thighs from where _he _cut me. I look a mess, with my back _covered _in bumpy white lines and my stomach black and blue and my thighs striped.

I look in a mirror at my face, because looking at my body will probably distress me. My long brown hair flows down to my chest and my green eyes look bright. Before people started ignoring me, I was told I was pretty quite a lot, which was nice, but their compliments were disregarded thanks to Alexander's harsh words. I ended up ignoring them.

I dress in the tight Dauntless clothing and leave the room.

**Okay!**

**I don't know how that was, please leave a review and give your opinion! It will get better, I swear. I don't want her to be a loner for the **_**whole **_**of initiation.**

**Soo…**

**Peace out!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey peeps! This is chapter two of my story, and I have to say thank you to the four who reviewed! You know who you are!**

**I didn't expect that many reviews, as it's only one chapter and I don't think Eric/OC stories are as popular as Fourtris ones. Anyway, on with the chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

ANNA

I manage to locate the cafeteria quicker than expected. It didn't take me long to realise that noise levels in Dauntless are always loudest where the most Dauntless are – which is normally the pit, I guess, unless they're eating. I followed the noise.

As I walk into the cafeteria, I search the room for a table to myself. It's not very Dauntless of me, yet I can't help but feel like everyone in here was at fault for what happened to me. I think I would feel that way with anyone. I went to school with some of the Dauntless in here... could they not notice how strange it was that an Amity came in with her face bruised and nose broken too often to be normal? I thought the Dauntless did a lot of fighting. Could they not realise when a bruise was in the shape of a fist?

To my disappointment, there are no empty tables. I end up going to the one with the least amount of people – and the only one that seems conversation isn't largely held. The transfers have all crowded around one half of the table, next to Four, who doesn't look overjoyed about it. I quickly decide to sit at the other end. Grabbing myself an apple and some salad from the middle, I settle down to eat when an annoying voice disturbs me.

"Is that all you're going to eat?"

I look down the table angrily to see where it came from and see all the other initiates staring at me. Four is the only one that doesn't, but from what I have seen of him Four never looks like he cares. The boy from Erudite looks at me curiously and I decide he was the one who asked. The voice did seem quite pompous, something worthy of an Erudite. Snorting, I send a glare down at him and turn back to my food.

Back in Amity, we didn't eat meat because it was considered cruel to animals. Obviously seeing our lack of protein-rich foods the Erudite cooked up a substitute, which was meant to taste the same and have the same nutrients, but very few Amity did eat it. Apparently it was too real, and that upset a whole lot of people. I definitely would have eaten it, had I been allowed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Erudite boy turn back to the other transfers and wave his hands about, getting a laugh out of them. I can assume that he was mocking me, which gives me more reason to dislike him. Strangely, I don't hear the high-pitched cackle of the Candor girl that I expected – instead, I feel her staring at the side of my head as I eat. I ignore her.

I groan as again, my eating is disrupted. A loud banging noise echoes through the cafeteria and a still hush falls over the rowdy Dauntless. Surprised, I look up, and notice someone is standing on a table across the room. I recognize him as Max, the Dauntless leader. I cringe as I remember the times I saw him in the streets and hoped he would notice me as well, see that something was wrong with my life and offer me a place in Dauntless. I recall how only a few years after my parents' death I desperately needed a way out – and I had always hoped that that would be Dauntless. They always looked so _alive_, something I had long lost the sensation of. It wasn't long after I started yearning for their freedom that I stopped, being hit with the realisation that something like that would never happen.

Forcing the thoughts to the back of my head, I focus on Max's speech.

His voice is loud and booming, and it had a cold edge to it that I find unpleasantly startling. Sharp and to the point, his words leave no room for questioning and the authoritative tone leaves me reminded of Alexander. I decide I don't like him already.

"Welcome, new initiates," He begins, "You have chosen the faction of bravery, and you should respect your choice. You are expected to show courage, even in the face of fear and should you fail, should you show cowardice, then you can expect punishment." He takes a breath, then sends a pointed look towards our table. "We do not tolerate cowards here." He finishes, taking a step down from the table, he goes to sit down, apparently unphased by the loud hoots and hollers from the rest of Dauntless.

_What a lovely man. _I think. _Finishing a welcome speech with punishment._

It seems like the part about punishment was the most important part of the speech, otherwise he wouldn't have ended it on it. The Dauntless sure hate cowardice. It seems pretty illogical if they hate cowardice when most of them _are _cowards. They didn't help a little girl in her time of need.

_Stop it. _I scold myself. _They weren't to know about Alexander. They couldn't have helped – this is your new faction. Act with more respect._

_My thoughts swirl around my head for a bit and I almost don't notice the man walking towards our table. Just like what happened with Max, the cafeteria falls quiet, something that doesn't strike me as very Dauntless. Hearing the sneer that I heard for the first time on the roof, I realise it is Eric._

"Well, Four. Aren't you going to introduce us?" Eric asks. He sounds bored and uninterested, like he's only asking for show. I keep my head looking down at the table and try to forget about what's going on around me. The cafeteria has started talking again, which doesn't help me think. Annoyed, I decide that maybe it is best to know my enemy and look up, to see Four starting to name everyone.

"This is Cain," He indicates to the meanest looking Candor boy. Cain smirks at his name. "Kyle, and Fern." He gestures to the other Candor boy, who seems to be Cain's lackey, and the Candor girl. To me, Fern sounds like a weak name and I wonder why she didn't change it to sound more Dauntless. Maybe she did it for the same reason that I didn't change mine.

"And Adam." The Erudite boy smiles at Eric. Eric looks unamused and raises his gaze which lands on me.

"And her?" Apparently confused, Four looks down the table and sees me. It would seem that even after I join their faction the Dauntless don't notice me. It doesn't surprise me. I'm not all that special.

_But I am. They can never know. _

I think it's best for me to try and blend in as much as I can, to try to pretend that I don't exist. If I draw attention to myself, I could be a target for anything – I don't particularly trust the Dauntless, much less the other transfers. Especially Cain – I find the prideful gleam in his eyes disturbing. And as much as I hate it, it's a good thing that Four didn't notice me. My place here isn't safe yet.

"Anna," Four states. I look into Eric's steely grey eyes and hold the stare for a second. He narrows his eyes and a cold look washes over his face. It's a scare tactic. But for almost all my life I have lived with Alexander, and I know that there is nothing worse that they could do to me here than he did to me back in Amity. I don't back down. Adam looks between us hurriedly, probably analysing everything like Erudite he is. Eric's cold stare turns into a calculating look – and I can't help but wonder, what faction was he formerly from?

"You were the first jumper?" Eric asks me. I nod and look back at my plate of food.

"Answer me properly initiate." Eric growls. I look up again, exaggeratedly exasperated. I nod slowly, making it seem like I am mocking him. His face contorts and he seems enraged.

"I mean with _words, _initiate." He seethes.

Crap.

I went too far. Without Alexander around, I stupidly thought that I couldn't be harmed. Not properly, at least. I know the Dauntless are dangerous, and I was foolish to think that I was invincible now that I had left Amity. I look down, my hair covering my face. I know backing down is cowardly in the eyes of Dauntless_, _but I need to learn when to pick fights and when not to. Eric hasn't done me any harm – _yet – _and I was rude to him. I need to learn to control my attitude, as I can see that it will get me into trouble as well as draw attention to myself. Didn't I just think about how I should keep on the down low?

"She doesn't talk." Blurts out Kyle. "She hasn't said a word since we first came here." I keep looking down at the table and hope that Eric walks away. From what I have already seen of him, he is malicious. Not someone I'd want to cross although unfortunately, it seems I already have. Not even been here an hour and I'm already in trouble with one of the members.

"Why is that, I wonder?" Eric speaks as if he is curious, but I can hear the venom lacing his voice. I can tell he doesn't like me already and now I have to worry about the consequences of my actions as well as how I will survive here in Dauntless. "Being an Amity, you would expect her to make friends."

"I'm _not _an Amity," I say, just loud enough for them all to hear. I struggle with the anger in my voice – I left my old faction to become Dauntless, and I will not let them define me because I was once one of those happy-juice junkies. Are they so blind that they can't see that I'm not part of that? Is it impossible to recognize me by the faction I belong to – now being Dauntless?

"It looks like she does talk," Eric mocks. However, it seems that he decides that talking to Four is more important than bullying me – although I know I provoked him.

"So you talk, huh hippie?" Cain says. I roll my eyes and keep eating.

"Leave her alone." A quiet voice says, and I realize it must be Fern. Why is she sticking up for me? She has no quarrel with Cain or Kyle, but by talking back to them she soon will have. It's a small group, but that has no toll on the amount of trouble I think those two Candor boys could create. Oddly, Cain does listen to Fern and does what she says.

In my moment of peace, I wonder for a second where Eric is from. I have seen many Dauntless before as they ran through the Hub, or came in late to class. They seemed carefree – wild. The majority of Dauntless that I can see now, in the cafeteria, look the same. What is so different about Eric? I know for definite that he couldn't have been Amity or Abnegation. If he were Dauntless born, wouldn't he be less... _uptight? _I think it would make sense if he were from Candor or Erudite – but these are only guesses. I'm probably wrong.

"Initiates." Four growls a few minutes later. "Go back to the dormitory once you have finished eating. Training starts at seven tomorrow. Be there, or be factionless." He gets up and leaves, taking long strides out of the cafeteria. I am the only one who has finished eating, being the one eating the least. So as soon as Four stops talking I get up and leave the cafeteria.

I walk along the corridors in silence. It makes a great difference to when I was in Amity, where I would be expected to be singing to myself as I walked. It's not mandatory, but all Amity sing and if you don't you're not considered a proper Amity. That's one of the reasons I was considered an outcast – I stopped singing after Alexander took me in. I guess that's when I also was forgotten – the girl whose parents died stopped singing after she was adopted. It doesn't seem like anything important, and as far as the Amity were concerned I could have stopped being Amity-like because I was grieving.

"Initiate."

I stop in my tracks. I am the only initiate here – this could only be referring to me.

I turn round and Eric stands a few meters before me.

"You are expected to act like a Dauntless. That does include talking and eating properly. We expect you to be different tomorrow." His voice is cold and uncaring, like he was sent to inform me this but really didn't want to.

I watch as he walks past me, continuing down the corridor and past the turn off that leads to the dormitories. It seems I _was _wrong, after all, he can't be Erudite if he expects me to eat properly – and I expect he means meat. With me being from Amity I thought he'd be able to tell that we didn't eat meat that much, so my body wouldn't be used to it. It would just come straight back up.

But maybe that's what he wants to see – me having troubles and struggling. Because I'm the only Amity, the only 'weak' one.

I'll show him who's weak.

When I get to the dormitory I undress quickly, but stupidly I didn't focus on where I was standing and when I turn to reach my bedclothes I can see myself in the mirror. It's a hideous sight, one that would make anyone recoil. My face may remain unharmed but beneath the neckline my whole body is scarred. Grey skin from undernourishment mixed with purple healing bruises makes me look like a zombie. I don't even want to properly look at the cuts and the scars. I normally don't care for looks, but in this state, my body needs some serious care. I will take care of myself, and as much as I don't want to, I will attempt to eat meat. A tiny little but at first, and more day by day. I don't want to make myself sick. And I'll just let Eric think that I'm following his orders.

I pull on the bedclothes and hop into my bed, scrunching my eyes shut and willing for the next day to come. But it doesn't, and I am left curled up in the cold, thin sheets that the Dauntless provided hoping against hope that I don't get any nightmares tonight.

...

Something pinches my nose, hard. I slap at it feebly in my haze of sleep that I suppose eventually hit me, but it doesn't go away. I open my eyes sluggishly and am met with all the transfers staring down at me, pissed off expressions on their faces.

"Oi, hippie." Says Cain. His voice, so normally jeering and mocking is tired and angry, a state I wouldn't want to get on his bad side on.

I look up at him curiously.

"We decided to wake you up." Says Kyle. Why? Am I late? Has training started and I am now factionless? No. If training had started these four wouldn't be here because they wouldn't care if that happened to me. Also - if I'm factionless for still being here, so are they.

"You were thrashing in your sleep. Wildly. So do us a favour and don't go back to sleep, and then _we _can get plenty of rest for training tomorrow." I narrow my eyes at Kyle. No doubt Cain put those words in his mouth. I feel like he is the one leading this group, and maybe if he hadn't done anything, Adam, Fern and Kyle would have let me sleep. Maybe.

I sit up in my bed and fold my arms. I incline my head to their beds, and Cain smiles and gets into his. The others follow suit, apart from Fern who comes and sits on my bed.

"Are you okay?" She whispers gently. I don't even remember having a nightmare, so I am fine, really. I thought I was sleeping well, for once. But then sometimes you don't remember dreams.

I don't respond to Fern, but I can tell she's going to keep pushing until I crack.

"You weren't really thrashing." My eyes widen. "That was just Cain being Cain. He sees you as competition. He's not stupid, he knows the Amity work out in the fields and therefore have muscle. He wants to be the big one, the ringleader. I say he's not stupid, but I actually mean he can be at times because you've not shown any signs that you want to take the lead."

Cain seems like exactly the kind of person who would do that – to try and lower my advantage by ruining my sleep. I sigh. At least Fern seems nice, but I can tell she wants to be friends and there is no way I'm up for that yet. I feel kind of guilty because of it but my goal right now is to survive, isn't it? I don't need her.

"Just go back to sleep," She whispers. A pang of hurt and pain runs through me at this sentence. It seems like something a mother would say, and it brings back so many memories that I just want to shove Fern off my bed. She seems too caring – what is she doing here?

I close my eyes and slide back into the covers properly, turning on my side so my back is to Fern. Thankfully she takes the hint and I feel some of the weight lift off my bed.

The rest of the night is spent trying to achieve what little sleep I can.

...

"Initiates! Up! Training room in ten minutes!" A cold voice breaks through the quiet and I realize Four is in the room. The other initiates groan, but I was already awake. I hop out of bed and reach for my training clothes that I discarded on the bottom bunk last night.

But now I have a problem. How do I change on front of the others? I could take a shower cubicle and be protected on two sides, but that would leave the front open for everyone to see my injuries. Fern seems to see my distress and walks over to me.

"If you want to change in private I can hold up a towel while you're in the shower cubicle?" She asks. I soften at her words immediately and forget about her intentions of being friends. I do know someone kind when I see one. She wouldn't volunteer to do this if she wasn't a nice person, and I really think she's too caring for Dauntless. I take the offer with a nod and lead her to the showers. I brings my clothes with me.

I stand in the stall and she holds up the towel, facing me but with her head turned and her eyes shut. Only my head and feet are visible form on front of the towel. I change quickly and then offer to do the same for her by nodding my head in the direction of the shower and then to her. She smiles and we repeat the process but the other way round. Despite her constant smiles, I keep my face stony and giving nothing away. I can't let her see weakness of any sort, she'll probably just go running back to Cain and explain every detail of my faults. _No, Anna. _I think. _She wouldn't be helping you if she was going to do that. What part of her helping you counts as a fault?_

She finishes and I heave myself out the room. I need to get to the training room. I presume that we will learn to fight, as every Dauntless knows how, and I need to get into the habit of rising early. I want to be better than everyone here, so I will train extra hard to get better. And if that means I am in here during whatever free time I have, so be it.

It's not like I have anything better to do.

**Well guys, I know that was a bit of a shitty filler chapter… but hey. I'm sorry I haven't updated for a while, I normally update every three-four days so don't give up on this story. I plan for it to be quite long, and to the one person who asked if the war would still occur – I haven't decided yet. I'm not sure whether I want to write that much, because writing Anna's initiation and then her life afterwards and **_**then **_**the next initiation might get a bit boring.**

**Anyway, bye guys!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys!**

**I am so, **_**so **_**sorry that I haven't updated in like, a month. Honestly, I just wanted to finish my other story, which I haven't yet – but have a few chapters to go, before I properly hit it off with this one. I have so much planned and so many ideas, I really mean it when I say that the updates will be regular from here on out. So, please enjoy the chapter.**

ANNA

I am first in the training room, which hits me as strange, as Cain Kyle and Adam all left before me. I can assume that Fern left after I did because she was still in the dormitory as I headed out. Did I miss something?

Four comes out of a cupboard near the back of the room, carrying a box of something. Although it is big he looks like he is lifting it with ease – although I can see by the way that the muscles in his arms are tensed that it is quite heavy. As my stomach gives a large growl he turns to see me, looking surprised that I'm here already. It's then that I remember what I missed – breakfast. In Amity, there were often days where I didn't get to eat in the morning, so out of habit I just forgot about it. Thinking about food causes my stomach to growl again and I frown as notice the familiar empty feeling.

The others begin to file in, and I turn away as soon as I see them because of the breakfast muffins they carry in their hands. I guess I'll have to wait until lunch, but jealously fogs my mind slightly when I remember that they always had plenty to eat – at any time they could have gone and gotten food from the kitchen. And now they get to eat while I watch. It seems that they're waving their easy lives on front of me, bragging and showing off to those who didn't have it as well. I try to ignore it – it's not as if I'll die of starvation. I'm pretty used to not eating for a while.

Four clears his throat.

"Alright initiates, seeing as the rest of you have _finally _decided to turn up, we can get on. The first thing you will learn today is how to fire a gun. The second, how to win a fight," He pauses, then after what appears to be careful thought, he continues. "Mind you try to do well, as only the top ten of you will make it into Dauntless."

A shiver runs down my spine – I knew there would be competition to become Dauntless, but not so much that only ten of us would get in. Obviously it would include the Dauntless born, otherwise Four wouldn't be telling us this.

Where would I go if I didn't make it into Dauntless? The thought never even crossed my mind. What would my life be? I've heard of Amity letting people come back if they left – but I wouldn't return to Alexander, even in the direst of situations. I left so I could be free, not so that I could return to my past and rely on the one person that I had ever truly hated.

The other option is to become factionless – although I know I could never go through with it. My whole life so far has had a purpose – to escape, to be free. What would it be should I live on the streets, scavenging from bins and waiting for the Abnegation to bring me what I needed? I know that if I were to be factionless that Alexander would find me. I'd surely be dead as soon as he found out.

"But then we have nothing to be worried about," says Adam, "Because there's only five of us." Normally I would have snorted at his comment, but the idea of living factionless, or returning to Alexander is so defeating that I feel tears prick behind my eyes. Where could I go that I would be safe? Dauntless is my last hope... and if I don't get in then surely there is nothing left for me to live for. Alexander must be so angry for me leaving him... he could find me at any time.

_He could find me at any time._

I feel the panic set in – I came here to be free from him, but my mind is so plagued by his words, by his actions that I am a prisoner in my own body. Can I ever escape what happened?

I try my hardest to calm myself down. I am safe from him in Dauntless – surely. The only threat to me here is being kicked out, and if I try hard enough I won't be. If I remain focussed on my goal I can win, can't I?

I notice I am visibly shaking and try to calm myself. This isn't the place for weakness. Anyone could target me right now – if Eric were here his sharp eyes would no doubt pick up on my fear.

_Stop thinking like that. You can manage._

_You are as strong as you want to be. _

It's something my mother said to me once when I was younger. It hadn't crossed my mind until now, but I still find truth in it. If I try, act like I am strong, then maybe I can be. If I can will myself into strength then I can make it through this – can't I?

I push down my other thoughts so that I can listen to Four, but they still linger there, in the background. It scares me, that I could get so easily kicked out. But I know that I can make it – I _will _make it.

Four looks annoyed, and in an attempt to lighten myself up I try to find humour in the thought that this is probably the only emotion I'll ever see from him.

"You will be ranked with the Dauntless borns," Four says and everyone visibly pales. "Training consists of three stages – physical, emotional and mental. The second stage rankings will be weighted more than the first stage and the third more than the second. So it is possible, though hard, to drastically improve your rank over time."

Emotional? The whole reason that I have made an effort not to befriend anyone is to keep my emotions in check. I'm not sure how much more pain I can stand and I don't want to find out. I am so scarred, both physically and mentally, that just want to hide that part of me. Not bring it back up. What kind of testing would they put us through to see our emotions? And more importantly – are we going to be the only ones who see our outcomes, or will our trainers know them too? I feel disgusted at the thought that anyone should find how broken I am. It looks like I'm going to have to confront who I am – and I find no comfort in the fact that I won't be the only one. As if the other initiates have anything as big as I do weighing on their shoulders.

"Let's get on." Four's voice interrupts my thoughts. He walks up to the box, sitting on the table he put it on earlier, and reaches into it. My attention is caught immediately by the sleek, black tool he draws out. He looks so comfortable, holding a gun in his hand, that I wonder how many times he has done this. I notice the targets on the other side of the room – read circles painted on the walls. He walks over to stand on front of them, the arm holding the gun hanging by his side – as if it's a casual book he's carrying, not a loaded weapon with the power to kill anyone in this room. Raising his arm, it appears that he would be able to shoot the target dead centre without looking. But he grasps the handle with his other hand as well, and, looking incredibly focussed on what he is doing, fires.

The sound that reverberates around the room is loud, so loud that I want to cover my ears. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Fern jump slightly, but I've heard the sound before. Sometimes, should the factionless get too rowdy, one Dauntless member would fire a gun up into the sky. It scared them enough to stop whatever they were doing, but it never scared _me _enough to go running back to what was scarier – Alexander.

I look at the target that Four fired at and noticed that there is a small hole right in the middle. Four fires a few more times, then lowers the gun. He lets go of it with one hand and with the other motions for us to pick up our own and get started.

Though I am itching to get started, I wait until everyone else has got their guns before I go for my own. I am a lot smaller than them – even Fern, surprisingly – and would no doubt get shoved to the side, or elbowed where I have a recovering injury.

Once I get my weapon, I make my way over to a target on the far side of the room, away from the others. I don't want to get distracted by how they are doing when I should be focussed on myself and how I can improve best. Four made it clear earlier that spaces here in Dauntless were hard to get, and I know that I have to distance myself from them so that I can train without losing focus.

I try my best to mimic Four's stance, with my feet shoulder-width apart, both arms out and relaxed. Whenever I pictured someone firing a gun, they were always shooting with their body turned slightly and one arm raised. I see now how that is completely irrational, as these guns are so heavy that I even struggle to lift it with one hand, despite having some muscle already. I try to relax, but the thought that I am holding a potential murder weapon in my hand prevents me from doing so. I don't know how Four can be okay with doing this – I know I'm not. Maybe if I became Dauntless and managed to get used to it I would be.

I take aim and hold my breath as I fire. I expect the gun to jerk back, so I aim slightly lower than the middle. It doesn't recoil as much as I expected though, and when I look I see my bullet is quite near the bottom – and very far left. I growl, knowing that I have so much to improve on before my shooting can be deemed acceptable. I bet everyone is already doing better.

I startle as I hear a cold voice from behind me.

"You're tense, but it's obvious you're trying to relax. Think of something, a good memory or something. Then picture the face of someone you really hate on the target." I whip round to see Eric, standing right beside me. In the haste of my actions, I almost hit him in the chest with my gun, but thankfully he steps to the side at the last second. I look up at him for a second, noting how when I almost hit him with my gun I only hit his chest – as he is so tall. I come up to just below his shoulders, which makes me gulp when I realise that this would make it so much easier for him to hurt me if he wanted to.

Turning back to my target, I try to remember Alexander's face when he was at his angriest. There are many possible occasions – but the most severe is probably the night I came home from my aptitude test and refused to tell him my result. I could have easily lied and said just Amity, but in a flare of defiance I remembered how my private life was called _private _for a reason, and just ignored him. It was so bad that night that I still have some of the injuries healing on my back. I feel the anger rise inside me and I fire not one, not two but three bullets into his face. In my anger I didn't focus on where I was shooting, but let my hate cloud my vision. The first bullet it near to the centre, but the next two get increasingly far away. It is better than my first shot at least.

I notice that Eric is still standing by my side and it takes all my effort not to get even angrier and tell him to go away. I can't let my anger at Alexander have an effect on how I am doing here – I need to control it, tame it, or surely I'll just burst at some point. And I don't want to get angry at Eric, especially after he just helped me, despite the fact that I don't particularly like him.

"Better," He says. He leaves, heading back to the rest of the initiates and Four on the other side of the room. I hear him shout at Fern a bit – I didn't expect her to be a good shot anyway – but then he goes to the side and watches. It unsettles me the way that the Dauntless hush when he is around, which is the same way that I feel even less comfortable now knowing that he is here. He reminds me of Alexander slightly, in his dangerous demeanour and the way he holds himself – I don't doubt that he is cruel, but what worries me most is how he managed to get me to shoot straighter. Is that how _he _hits the target? By imagining someone's face? If so I don't want to do it like that. I feel that if I do, I will turn out like him. I don't want be like Eric – merciless and mean – but what other choice do I have? His idea has helped my shooting progress already.

It's clear that I'm already starting to be like him though – Eric hides in his isolation and so do I. People are so scared of him that they don't want to be his friends... how long will it be before I reach the same fate? Do I really want to be feared?

_No. _

I fire my gun some more, getting used to the cold weight in my hands and being able to brace for the recoil properly now. I keep imagining Alexander – imagining not only his face on the target but his whole body, and I begin shooting down where I imagine his chest is, his stomach, his legs. The shots aren't exactly accurate but it's clear by where the holes are that I was pretending to shoot _something _down. I shoot the head another few times for good measure, but sadly none of them hit where I want.

I turn my head to scan the training room as a break, but see Four walking towards me instead of giving advice to everyone else. As he approaches me, he starts speaking, his voice giving commanding instructions.

"You know," He starts, "If you let your emotions consume you, you're not going to get far in Dauntless. Toughen up, initiate, I don't want to see emotional in the training room."

I am shocked by his directness. Was it really that obvious that I was angry? I glare at him and go back to shooting, this time forcing down my anger. The next shots fired hit closer to home – I don't have to look to know that Four is smirking behind me.

I look once more at the other initiates, taking my anger at Four and Cain and Eric and most of all, Alexander, supressing it once more and firing. Each shot gets closer and closer to the middle – and I begin to get excited for the first time in a while when I realise how well I am doing.

I train my vision and imagine a line going down the target. I shoot, again and again and again trying to keep it as straight as possible. It almost works.

"We're trying to hit the centre, if you hadn't noticed," Cain shouts across the room to me and just for fun, I glare at him and then aim my best shot to the centre. I smile smugly when it goes where it was planned. Cain turns back to his target, angered. He hasn't hit the centre yet, but that's probably because he doesn't have something to fuel him. I have the need to get in to Dauntless – but what does he have? He probably thinks he's going to get in easily and doesn't have the proper drive to fight for what he wants.

"Okay, initiate," Eric says loudly, standing up from where he sat and watched. It occurs to me that when none of the others turn, he must be addressing me. I think that if he used my name it might be a little clearer.

I turn to him, rolling my eyes, but am startled when I find him closer than I first thought. He stands a few feet on front of me, whereas the last time I saw him he was at the edge of the room.

"It seems that you take pride in mocking other initiates." My eyes narrow. Mocking? I think he has it the wrong way round. I scowl at him and open my mouth to say something back, but years of keeping quiet and not talking back reminds me to stay quiet. There will be times to one-up people with words, but gun training is not one of them. Besides, I wouldn't give Eric the pride of having me act like a Dauntless, as he commanded last night, just because he accused me of something that I did not do. His attempts to get me to talk are pitiful, but I know that he will keep trying. His cold ways won't let him drop such an interesting case to bully. "So, if you're so confident in your shooting, hit the human target where I tell you to." I frown. Is this really necessary? If I do this wrong, I will be the laughing stock of this year's initiate class. But if I do it right, I will be forced to deal with the envy and anger of my peers. I want to succeed in Dauntless, but if I have others constantly on my tail they're just going to slow me down with their harassment.

His words then hit me like a blow, and I am surprised it took me so long so register them. I am usually so on top of things – I did get Erudite as well.

A human target? He's going to make me shoot someone? If this is Dauntless, I'm not sure I can do it. I'm not _him, _I won't inflict such pain on others. When did shooting someone become a basic part of initiation?

I breathe a sigh of relief when I realise he means the human _shaped _target, the one at the other edge of the room. I guess hitting the centre of a round target isn't that impressive.

"If you are so proud of shooting the centre of the target, let's prove your aim by seeing how well you do with a more difficult one." I wrinkle my nose and walk over to it. Everyone is silent.

"You will fire at the head, and the heart." Eric says. I am disgusted that these are the places he would aim – the kill shots. However, it is Eric and I mustn't underestimate his sadistic nature. He could be worse than this, or this could be an all-time low. There is so much about him that I don't, and would rather not, know and I can't base how cruel he will be just out of an hour or so of training in the same room as him.

I raise the gun – so much for not drawing attention to myself – and fire. The shot hits the corner of the head. Still not perfect. I lower the gun slowly and fire once more, hitting where I presume the heart would be.

All of a sudden the target is Alexander and I recoil. I hate him. I hate him so much. So why can't I hurt him? Is it possible that after all this time of being lonely that I can still find it in myself to feel and dislike the feeling of shooting another human? I shake the image out my head and look again at the target. It's not Alexander, it's an undetermined human figure.

Though I refuse to associate with those who won't in any way aid me, or those who simply annoy me in the case of Four and Eric, I decide to show a bit of my style by aiming one last time at the target, although technically I have already done what was asked of me. I take fire, and smirk at where a hole appears in the groin of the figure. I turn back to everyone, initiates shocked and angry, Four expressionless as usual and Eric wincing slightly. I grin inwardly.

...

During lunchtime, I get time to think about my actions. Did I honestly try to aggravate Eric, _again? _I didn't want to make people aware of me, but now it seems that I am the talk of Dauntless. The crazed initiate who fired at the head without stopping. What is wrong with her? Is she angry at someone?

_No shit._

People give me curious glances wherever I go and I start to feel disgusted by myself. I hate Alexander, but do I honestly want to kill him? Am I becoming like him?

My stomach lurches when this thought runs through my head. I must be – only a sick, twisted and evil person would fire a gun repeatedly at someone's head… if they didn't die immediately the amount of pain that would cause…

I leave the cafeteria quickly, the food on my plate half-eaten. I know I need to eat, but I can't right now. I think I'm going to be sick.

My pace quickens and I begin to run, pushing though the crowds in a desperate attempt to get somewhere private to throw up. The chasm seems empty as I pass it, and one more thought of that gun provokes it, and I hurl into the abyss.

My hair starts to fall forward, but someone grabs a hold of it and holds it back. They aren't at all gentle, but I am used to pain. It doesn't hurt _that _much. I am just grateful that I won't get sick in my hair.

A few minutes later – presumably about five – I have nothing left to get rid of, not that it was much in the first place.

"What the hell, initiate?" I groan. Eric. "What the fuck happened?"

I push myself away from the railings and he lets go of my hair so fast I would swear that he had a fear of contracting whatever first made me sick. Or whatever made me be me. I look him in the eye, determined not to back down from this individual who should scare the hell out of me, but simply aggravates me. I do not fear Eric, after all, being prone to violence for my entire life big men with muscles play no threat to me mentally anymore. Nor am I afraid of Alexander. I know I previously figured that I shouldn't provoke Eric, but obviously the Dauntless in me kicks in and I refuse to back down.

Knowing Eric – or should I say, presuming about Eric, after all, my knowledge of him is limited – he won't have forgotten about his little warning last night, and I'd better answer him.

"My name," I growl, "is Anna. If your pathetic mind is too incompetent to understand names then I really don't think you should be training us, let alone be a leader." Eric's eyes bulge as he seems to try to make himself more intimidating by putting on his fiercest face and puffing out his chest. It doesn't work, although it may on someone else.

Footsteps echo down the path that I came from, and silently I hope that they are someone who can stand a match against Eric, or some figure of authority, and they can save me from whatever fate he is currently planning for me. I know it will be something bad, what I said was basically the meaning of disrespectful and rude. But the footsteps seem reasonably far away, and I think Eric would be able to beat me up and drag me away to leave me somewhere by the time they arrive. There must be rules against that, right? Rules against killing your initiates on their first day of training.

"Initiate, normally for that sort of comment I would make you hang over the chasm for a few minutes, but I think that deserves worse. Perhaps ten would do you good," Eric responds. His voice is menacing in the way that Alexander's was before he would do anything, and the sound of it makes me uncomfortable.

To my relief, my perception of distance must be pretty bad as the footsteps grow louder and louder until someone appears. I notice the same face that I have been seeing since the choosing ceremony.

"Eric?" He asks. Pathetically, I try to send him a pleading look with my eyes in an attempt to get him to help me. I don't know him, but this man could be my saviour. The man seems to catch onto my need for help and comes closer to us. Eric looks severely annoyed.

"Zeke, what do you want?" The man, now identified as Zeke, smiles at us.

"I was just going to take Anna here to meet Shauna. She was so excited to finally meet the first jumper, and I'm glad you found her. I'll take her off your hands and we'll be on our way," Begrudgingly, Eric steps to the side. But he wouldn't do this without a sidewards meaning. My punishment will probably come later now that Zeke has come to my rescue.

My expectations are met as Zeke grabs my arm to lead me away and Eric leans in and growls, "Watch your back, initiate."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys!**

**Yeah, the last update may have been a bit sucky, but I did expect at ****_least _****one review. To be honest, I gave it a few days before checking, thinking that I didn't really deserve many after the wait and no one would be expecting an update anyway. I don't just write for myself, guys, I write for you too. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

ANNA

"What the _hell _were you doing with Eric, Anna?!" Zeke shouts when we get a good distance between us and Eric. "You don't just go off with him by yourself!" I narrow my eyes at him. How dare he tell me what to do? I understand that being with Eric at that point wasn't exactly brilliant, in fact, I probably would have _died _hanging off the chasm for ten minutes, but I didn't exactly consent to it. He just… appeared. I shrug my shoulders. It's none of Zeke's business and he doesn't need to know.

"I _saved _you from him. You could at least tell me what happened!" Again, I shrug my shoulders. I add an eye roll for added annoying affect that will surely get him to leave me alone now, and in the future.

"Fine. Don't say anything. But don't think I haven't heard about you, the initiate that doesn't talk. People wonder how far you'll actually make it here," He spits out. I am left, mouth agape, as he walks away. People talk about me? I guess gossip travels far in Dauntless. Not that I really care, as a reputation doesn't aid my goal of survival, but it would be nice to not be talked about. Especially in a cruel way. _The initiate that doesn't talk. _Honestly, have they nothing better to do with their time? Besides, I've talked plenty of times. I just spoke to Eric, and before that I spoke to him as well…

Worry brims at the pit of my stomach when I realise that besides telling my name to Four, Eric is the only person I've spoken to. That says a little bit about my personality, doesn't it? Eric seems to have managed to get me to talk to him, only him, and yet he still pursues my speech.

I shrug it off and start walking back to the dormitory. On the way there, I take note of the strange silence that has engulfed the hallways. The Dauntless, despite their reputation, do not seem to be constantly loud, well, at least not everywhere. Before I came here, I figured that wherever they went, they would shout and scream until no silence was left for anyone to hide in. Now I see that I was wrong – the Dauntless have certain places that they are loud, like the pit, or the cafeteria. But when groups walk past me in the halls, of course they talk and joke, but they don't riot like anyone would assume. The Dauntless are just normal people, with a little recklessness added in.

I arrive at the dormitory and find it empty. I still have training after lunch, which I guess ends soon. Even though I felt I wanted to be alone, and there is no one in the dormitory, I feel oddly insecure in the hollowness of the room. Perhaps it's because at Amity, I did know everyone. I knew that even though they had ignored me, and practically left me to the sharks, they were there and if I really wanted to I could speak to them because they knew my family and if I properly introduced myself they would recognise me. Not that I would, of course, the Amity are negligent and peace-obsessed, but there I wasn't _physically _alone. I felt alone and forgotten, as I was, but here I have never felt more so. There _is _no-one I can talk to, not even Fern who has been nice to me before. I have never craved human kindness since I went to live with Alexander – I forced that out of me. But seeing people who aren't drunk on peace serum get along and have friends… it's strangely isolating. At Amity you were forced to be happy. The Dauntless are happy of their own accord, and it's a new experience for me.

It would be nice to be a part of that.

_No._ I think to myself. _You don't need people. People hurt you. You are strong enough to survive without others – so stop being a wimp and get your act together._

I know I am right, but I honestly wish I wasn't.

PAGE BREAK

I make my way back to the training room, praying that Eric isn't going to be there now. I hope that he has some sort of leader-like job to accomplish, or perhaps he has to go see whatever family or girlfriend he has here for whatever reasons that means he is absent.

However my hopes soon diminish when I see the all too familiar piercings standing under the sickly yellow lights next to a few punching bags. He appears impatient, and I wonder why. He can't have done that much after I left, after all, there wasn't much time between then and now. But I have learned that I shouldn't underestimate Eric.

I enter the training room, dread weighing in the pit of my stomach like a stone.

Eric doesn't acknowledge my entrance, although it's clear he knows I'm here. I ignore him too as I lean against the wall absentmindedly, waiting for everyone else to appear.

They walk in – sauntering, in the case of Cain and Kyle – and hang around the door like the flocks of sheep we had at Amity surrounding their herder. Fern looks slightly scared, her baggy clothing hanging off her arm as she hugs it with the other to the side. Her blonde hair falls on front of her face – an appearance she'd do best not to keep up if she doesn't want people to interpret her as a small, frightened child. I sigh. It's a shame, she probably is a really nice person, who just made the wrong choice in Dauntless and now is going to have to live factionless.

They are swiftly followed by Four, who grunts in appreciation when he sees we're already here.

"Alright, initiates. I'm going to show you how to fight, and you will use your punching bags to practice. You have a week before fights begin. Look closely, I don't want to repeat myself." He says monotonously. He walks towards the closest punching bag and directs a punch towards it. Like with the knives, I study his position and the way his whole body moves after his arm does to give him maximum power. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of one of Four's punches, but he doesn't seem like the character who just hands them out freely. From what I've seen, that would more likely be Eric.

"Grab a bag and start."

I hurry over to the punching bag at the very end of the room, furthest away from all instructors and other initiates. If they are doing well, I don't need the added pressure to live up to their standards. And watching Fern weakly hit the hard material doesn't seem all that appealing.

I part my feet and try to balance my centre of gravity between them – which is easier said than done, because I end up overthinking it and just have to resort to guesswork on whether I am in a stable stance or not. I lift my arms to my head height, as I saw Four do then let my arm fly out. My knuckles slap against the bag with a satisfying _thud, _but my hand comes away aching. Ignoring the pain, which seems to be dulling now, I hit the again and again, switching hands on occasion.

Someone kicks my feet further apart, and I hold in a yelp of surprise. Thankfully it's only Four, who goes about correcting the way I am holding myself in many different ways. Apparently, I was doing it _very _wrong, which is slightly shameful. What makes it worse is that Cain and Kyle are obviously watching and holding snickers as they see Four point out all my bad attempts.

Eventually he leaves, and when I hit the bag again this time it hurts a lot less, which I guess is a plus. I feel more power coming behind the punch, and the bag swings back slightly every time I hit it now. I smirk with satisfaction when the bag gradually gets beaten up by my oncoming fists.

Sweat drenches my forehead when we finally escape the training room and go to dinner. Unlike the rest of the group, I go straight there despite the screaming pains that shoot through my joints every time I move. Four took us through laps around the training room after he felt he had worn us out enough with the punching bags, saying it was only a warm up for when we ran laps of the city. I dread the morning where we wake up and have to sprint around the place.

I slump down at an empty table when I get into the cafeteria, not bothering to get a plate and fill it up – only grateful for the momentary break from using my legs. My peace is short-lived however, as a few minutes later someone slides into the seat next to me, the other one and the opposite one being taken in turn. I frown and look at my disturber.

"Hi! I'm June!" A cheery Dauntless-born says. Her hair falls down in purple bangs to her chin, which, like the rest of her face is slathered in some sort of makeup. She has countless ear piercings, but the black stones go nicely with the almost-black blue colour in her eyes. She smiles broadly at me and I find myself looking back at her curiously.

"This is Gabe," She gestures to the tall boy sitting opposite me, whose green eyes are alive cheek, "And this is Damien." I look to the boy on my right and recognise him as the boy who smiled at me during the choosing ceremony. He smiles again, but instead of ignoring everyone I can't help but smile faintly back.

"So we heard about you," Gabe says. I note that his voice sounds almost like a child's, which makes me want to snort. I raise an eyebrow, as if to say _'oh, yeah?' _but put it back down in a frown as he continues, "you're the first jumper who doesn't talk."

_The first jumper who doesn't talk. _

That seems to be all I am known for here in Dauntless. The girl who thinks she can pass initiation without friends. I pretend not to notice the looks I get in the hallways from other Dauntless members who go on to whisper to their friends about some sort of gossip they probably heard to do with me, but sometimes it's kind of insulting. Not that they talk about me – I couldn't care less about that – but they insult my intelligence when they think I don't realise. Of course I act, but they could be slightly less obvious when spreading nasty rumours about me.

"So we're going to make you crack," _that seems to be everybody's goal here, _"And we're going to make your our friend."

"Why, you don't ask?" Damien laughs loudly, "Because we like challenges. No-one gets past the awesome threesome, and soon it will be the awesome foursome."

"He's not joking," Gabe says, his mouth full of the burger he just grabbed off June's plate, "I didn't really want to be friends but they kind of forced me into it."

"Ah, the days of the awesome twosome. Now, I'm not sure it three is better." June sighs. Gabe narrows his eyes and playfully punches her across the table, I flinch away like he's diseased – my reaction to any sudden movements is fast, and helped me avoid many of Alexander's punches over the years. I back into Damien, who gives me a confused look. I shrug it off and settle back down to see June put her hands up in mock surrender to Gabe.

"I'm sorry! Spare my life!" She calls. I watch them laugh, slightly jealous of the easy life they have with each other, knowing that when they get up in the morning that they have at least each other to rely on. Who do I have? No one. I frown into the space on the table where my plate should be, but look up again as someone claps a hand against my shoulder. They want me to be part of them, don't they? Because they want a challenge? Does that mean that if I were to give in, become they're friend, they would keep me there?

_Shut up, _I tell myself, _you never needed friends. Want will get in the way of survival._

But having people I know can't be that bad, can it? It's not like they're going to turn out like Alexander, so I'm sure speaking with them, only them, can't hurt…

"You know, a foursome is double the awesomeness of a twosome…" I joke quietly, watching for their reactions. Joking, despite how not funny it may be, feels incredible right now. I've gone so long without it, it's such a strange feeling of elatedness that I want more.

I could befriend these people, couldn't I? I wouldn't need to trust them. Besides, they're Dauntless borns. Surely there'll be some fighting techniques that they know that we won't learn that can help me through initiations. So actually, knowing them would be aiding my survival.

"Did you just-" June says, too shocked to be able to finish.

"We already cracked her?" Damian asks, "Man, we must be better than we thought!" Gabe silences him with a look, and then turns back to me.

"So, Anna, are you actually willing to speak to us?" He asks.

_I don't know. I don't know anything about you. I barely even know why you're here and speaking to me. I don't know your surnames, I don't know you're other friends. You could be a psycho-killer for all I know. But I've been deprived of fun for so long, I am going to use you to help my survival scheme._

I nod.

**Please review**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey peeps! I know, quick update, right!**

**So yeah, I know this sort of story has been done before, and I don't mind that you guys pointed that out. I just want to tell you – I already have a whole plan for the story and the ending if just ****_whoa. _****No spoilers – but it's going to be awesome and you will be left speechless. **

ANNA

I slip away from dinner easily enough – Damien and Gabe were in hysterics from an inside joke and June was too busy trying to find out what to notice me leaving. With my gaze trained on the floor I leave the room, ignoring the looks I get on the way out. Unlike in Amity, people notice me for trying to go unnoticed. The Dauntless don't let anyone pass by under their noses, which is the polar opposite from the negligent hippies.

_Hippies. _I guess I can call them that now. My parents once got called hippies by some Dauntless when they offered them bread. At the time, I thought it was a nice thing, or meant as a compliment. But then, how competent is the mind of a young child in the world of bitterness and sarcasm?

My feet lead me to where I had intended to go without me even realising it. The training room, which was once alive with people fighting and shooting looks plain and dull in the darkness that consumes it. I don't bother to turn on the light – there is just enough natural light for me to see where the punching bags still hang in preparation for tomorrow's training and besides, I have no idea where to even find the switch. Silently, I walk forward towards where the punching bag I used is suspended from the ceiling and stand on front of it for a while. Is this what I appeared like for Alexander? A simple punching bag? After all, I definitely treated my bag today like he treated me, so I guess that's all I was to him. But in my hatred for him, I can sort of understand why he did it. The surge of power coursing through your veins with every hit is enough to get you high on adrenaline.

I take my stance, one foot slightly on front of the other so that I am stable, and hands held around my chin so that they can block easily up high, or down low. Taking my first swing at the bag, I relish the tingle that it leaves in my hand and the way my heart races at the sense of power. I hit it once more with the other hand, this time grateful that whilst I was at Amity, I did at least get something worthwhile – muscle, which makes it easier for me to make the bag swing backwards. Moments like theses I am glad that I grew up somewhere that manual labour was common, and not like Fern who now has to start developing muscle before she can build it – which will take her longer. If I were her, I would be in the training room at any given opportunity, trying to shake my premade disadvantage. However, she doesn't seem to be doing so which means that either she doesn't care, or really doesn't belong in Erudite. Possibly she's fleeing from something, or someone, like I am. But if she were, wouldn't she rather be somewhere she has a guaranteed spot, like Abnegation?

I shove all thoughts of others to the side and focus on my training. Although Four hasn't yet taught us any special kicks yet, I can only imagine that the basics will be pretty self-explanatory. I take a step back and raise my left leg, letting it fly at the bag. But as soon as my foot collides with it I am pushed backwards, a dull ache rising in my toes. I stumble and fall, landing on my butt with an _oomph. _I shake my head and stand again. I suppose kicks are easier said than done.

It occurs to me that I can use my knees, therefore not having to stretch my leg at far and having my point of gravity closer to me. Also, I could probably get in more power if I don't have to use my muscles to the full extent of my leg. I bring my arms to my side to balance me, and knee the punching bag. It works better than the kick, but I am still slightly off-balance and I lurch to the side once more, bringing my foot down just in time to stop myself from hitting the ground again. I look around the training room for something to hold onto while I kick, just to help build the muscles there and not fall over immediately. I don't really need any more bruises in my life.

A table stands off to the side where Four had the guns placed earlier. I hobble over, my toes still hurting from the failed kick, and wrap each of my hands around the sides. With a groan I lift the table off the ground and start stumbling over to where my punching bag is. But as one of the table legs hits my sore foot I let out a yelp and go crashing to the ground, the stupid table falling to the side next to me.

"Initiate, what the hell do you think you're doing?" A loud voice demands. I let out an aggravated sigh and turn to face Eric, the only one with a voice that cold. I incline my head to the punching bags and withhold a smartass comeback which I surely would be punished for, as I would probably end up suffering the previous punishment that I got and this one both at once. I pick myself up off the ground and dust off my clothes awkwardly. Eric stands in a shaft of light in the doorway, his piercings glinting in the brightness. The light silhouettes him, and I can only really see his eyes and the studs of metal that are stuck in his skin. It's not exactly pretty, but I do admit, it is artistic. A black shape blocking the lights seems rather poetic in quite a dark way.

"And what about the table?"

I shake my head.

"Initiate," he warns. In an attempt to subtly tell him I flex my muscles in my arms, hoping he'll catch on and get that I was just training. I guess that he gets it, as he lets out a cruel laugh a few seconds later.

"What, you were trying to build muscle? By lifting a table?" His cold laughs fade into a sneer. "You know there's a thing called weights which are better for that kind of thing."

I shrug it off, trying to downplay my annoyance. He shouldn't be allowed to treat people in such a mean way, but as I recently discovered he _is _a Dauntless leader, and supposedly that lets him do anything he wants. I almost snort at how usual it seems.

"You're not supposed to be in here after hours, I could report you." He says. I don't miss the jeering in his voice. "But that would be boring, wouldn't it? I think I'll punish you instead. For both times you've done something wrong."

I feel like a rock is settling in my stomach, leaving no room for what I didn't eat. It weighs me down alongside the dread that sinisterly dances around it. I can only guess that Eric's idea of punishment will be brutal, and here I am on the receiving end of one on the first day of training.

"You want to build muscle? I can help. That table you were carrying. Pick it up and carry it to the end of the room and back, thirty times." My stomach leaps. _Thirty? _I can't even manage half of one, how am I meant to carry it across the entire length and back that many times? That table is bloody heavy!

I must be hesitating, as when Eric moves out of the doorway I can see his eyebrow raised challengingly.

"That's an order, initiate," he says. I gulp, and go to set the table straight on the ground. I bend over and grab both sides again, lifting it off the ground. I start to toddle forward before I collapse again. I can't do it.

"Hurry up and start. I don't want to be here all night." He says. I let out an exasperated sigh and furrow my eyebrows. If he didn't want to be here all night he shouldn't have come in the first place. This isn't going to build muscle, it's going to tear it. I won't be able to use my arms for days, weeks even, which will seriously hurt my progress in training not to mention hurt me physically as well.

I pick up the table once more and straighten out my back. By hunching forward slightly the other times I kept falling, to if I arch my back I should be able to save myself from lurching forward. I manage one length of the room, my arms screaming at me to stop, and turn back to face the door where Eric stood and start walking slowly towards it. I can only imagine that to someone like Eric this wouldn't really seem like a punishment, after all, he can probably lift this table easily. But for me, it seems impossible.

I shut out my mind and shut out everything else. I try not to think as I walk, praying that it will make this ordeal go faster. But after four times of doing it, I feel ready to faint and my back and forehead are drenched in sweat. My hands are red and the insides are sore from where I grasp the ledges of the table to try and stop it from sliding out my sweaty hands. I drop the table on the ground with a loud thud and look towards Eric, hunching over and wiping my hands on my pants.

"Did I say stop?" Eric says. I shake my head. "Then continue." He sounds to bored, yet so menacing at the same time. It's an odd combination. Daringly, I shake my head again.

"No? Why the fuck not, initiate?" I know that he calls me initiate just to aggravate me, seeing as I did get angry about it before and he got a reaction out of me. Not this time though.

"I don't want to be here all night. So, just for that reason, I want you to do another. Only another. Mind, for the next six days you will be arriving in the training room early to do five. I don't care what time you get here, heck, you could get there just before everyone else for all I care. As long as you are punished." I breathe a sigh of relief, a smile playing slightly on my lips. But that smile disappears as suddenly as it appeared when I see Eric push himself off the wall he was leaning on and walk towards me. He's frowning, and I can see the bulge of muscle under his t-shirt as he approaches.

"Well get on with it!" He snarls in my face. I stand up straight and pick up the table in quick succession. This time instead of slowly shuffling across the room I stride, trying my best to ignore the burning sensation in my arms. When I finally finish the last one I drop the table on the ground again, a satisfied grin spreading across my face. When I turn to see whether I can go yet or not, I notice that Eric is there anymore.

_Bastard. _

PAGE BREAK

When I wake up the next morning I almost go straight back to sleep again. All my joints hurt and when I move them pains shoot through my entire body. It's not the good ache I got after using the punching bags during Four's training yesterday, the one that says that you have worked out, and you did well and worked hard. No, this is entirely different. This one says that I pushed myself way too hard and that it really wasn't a good idea. I open my eyes slightly and squint at the clock that we discovered yesterday evening. It's around quarter to six. Eric said I had to get up early, and whilst I seriously doubt that he'll come by to check, I have noticed cameras around the place that he'll probably check if he can. Whatever makes his life easier.

I drag myself out of bed and rifle through the small drawers at the side until I find some training clothes. I don't really care which, as long as they are stretchy and are easy to work out in.

I go to the bathroom to change, as through there provides at least a little more privacy then I would get if one of my fellow initiates were to wake up. They would see me. They would see my scars. Looking in the mirror, I peel off what I wore to bed and throw them to the sides. My body looks no different from when I last checked, and if anything, it looks more worn out. The scars stick out like a sore thumb, painting my skin with roads to places that I'd rather not travel to again. One particular scar, running from my hip to my knee catches my attention as I remember how I got it.

_"School reports say you're not even trying in classes!" Alexander shouts. I cower away into the corner of the kitchen where I had just finished cleaning. "They say you have no friends! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Why can't you just be a proper Amity?!" I scrunch my eyes closed, praying that this time it won't be bad, and that he will just hit me a couple of times and then let me leave. Of course I don't get that._

_He advances towards me, slowly, filling me with dread. He's good at this, at invoking anxiety. He grabs one of the knives off the kitchen surface and spins it in his hands._

_"You're pathetic, you know that? I'm going to give you something to remember that." _

I shake the memory out of my head. That is not something I want to relive right now. If I think about that, I'll think about my parents. And I don't need those kind of thoughts when I'm facing the Dauntless.

But then, why _am _I actually doing this? Why am I still here? Of course, after my parents died I just didn't want to continue. I couldn't cope with the fact that the ones who loved me weren't there anymore. I hated that whenever I had been sad, or angry, they would have been there to comfort me. But this time, the very worst, they were nowhere to be seen. I remember searching for them, yearning and screaming for them to come back and not to leave me. They never did, and I learned to deal with my life. My ultimate goal became survival, but before now I never questioned why. Why did I want to survive? Why didn't I just give up?

I guess the Dauntless in me wouldn't let that happen. I know that if my parents had survived I would be in Amity right now, probably waking up happily with the sunrise and ready for a day of picking apples or whatever. Instead I dread the day of work ahead with the Dauntless, with no-one that really cares about me.

I pull on my training clothes, but as soon as I do I want to take them off again. All the clothes in Dauntless fit snugly, but these fit a little _too _much. I feel like every single curve of my figure is being flaunted, in a way that is severely inappropriate. But this is Dauntless, and if I want to survive I need to fit in. So I deal with it.

On the way to the training room I pass the cafeteria, and the alluring smell of fresh muffins taunts me as I pass it by. My stomach growls, having emptied itself of its food yesterday and not eaten again afterwards. I ignore it and continue anyway.

The table is right where I left it yesterday, and I go to pick it up. This is going to be hellish.

**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys!**

**So, I know! Regular updates! All your reviews are really motivational, I woke up this morning and saw I had three new ones and just got seriously inspired to write some more. Thank you! And by the way, I have so many interesting things planned for this story, so bear with! It's going to get ****_seriously _****exciting! Oh, and if there's anything you particularly don't like about my writing, please say. I want to do the best I can, for all of us. I like writing, and I want it to be a good story. **

ANNA

We're back on the punching bags today. I can see that Four wants us to build muscle before we fight, which I understand, but I honestly wish he would teach us how to keep our balance through kicking. My punches are sending the bag swinging backwards, and every times it comes forth again I pound against it once more. Unlike the rest of the initiates, I am already tired out from carrying that darn table back and forth. But I can only guess that it will help me get stronger as well.

Four goes around, correcting everyone's stance, and I am pleased – for reasons beyond me – to see that Fern is doing slightly better than yesterday, and Four actually compliments her balance and dedication. When she punches it doesn't look like much, however, I can tell that she is throwing her whole body weight behind it and if definitely would bruise if you were to be on the receiving end. I know that if Fern keeps this up she will bring herself up to the level that everyone else is at. My only worry is that with her petite frame, she'll handle fights badly. She looks weak.

When Four reaches me I keep hitting the bag while he analyses my technique. Eric didn't show up this morning for my punishment, nor is he right now and I am curious to know why.

"You're posture is good, keep tension in your stomach. Otherwise, if you want more power behind a hit, use your elbows. You pack a hard punch, but if you want to win use your elbows." He says. He sounds bored, as per usual, but I don't miss the happier sense in his voice. This must be where he thrives, in the training rooms. Or perhaps he's just glad that Eric is elsewhere.

"Where's Eric?" I ask. He frowns.

"Why does that concern you?" He huffs. Of course, it_ doesn't _concern me. I should be glad that Eric isn't here, but I want to know why. I guess there's a reason that I got Erudite as well on my aptitude test. Curiosity, once repressed in Amity, can thrive here if I am discreet about it.

"I just want to know why I'm not getting picked on," I answer truthfully. I see the corner of Four's mouth twitch and I almost gasp. It would appear that he _is _human.

"Yes. He does seem to pick on you more than the others. That doesn't usually happen, so watch your back. If he doesn't like you, you need to be careful. But so you know, he's out of the compound. You don't need to know any more." I nod and turn back to my punching bag. What could he be doing outside the compound? Is he in a leaders meeting? Or is it to do with the Factionless?

My fists pound against the hard bag for a while more, sweat gathering on my forehead and making my hair stick to it. I can only imagine that it isn't a good look, but this is training, not a fashion parade.

"Everybody stop!" A booming voice echoes across the room. I jump a little at the sudden disruption but quickly compose myself and look to see the only person who could project their voice like that. It would appear that Eric has returned.

And he doesn't look happy.

"Four, why haven't they progressed onto weights yet?" He snarls. Four is the only one in the room who keeps his calm. He certainly doesn't look scared of Eric like the rest of us. I have to admit, out of all the initiates, I can tell that I'm the least scared. Dealing with shouting was a regular thing at Amity, and I know how to hide my emotions. I almost laugh at the terrified look on Cain's face. I guess he is really a coward, which is a serious flaw in the Dauntless' system. They let cowards in simply because they have muscle and fight dirty to win.

"Because they are building up their muscle through punch bags," Four replies.

"Well, move them onto weights!" Eric shouts. Honestly, he reminds me of a child who didn't get his way. It's slightly pathetic, but kind of funny at the same time. I snigger quietly, but apparently Eric has bat ears and can hear it all the way across the room.

"Something funny, _initiate?"_ He says. His voice is quiet. Quiet means dangerous, or so I have learned through Alexander. I shake my head wildly, hoping against hope that he won't create another punishment. Thankfully, he lets it go. I don't know if he saw the dread in my eyes, or simply because he is too lazy to oversee punishment anymore. Probably the latter.

"Everybody, go to the weights and pick one. Bear in mind that I will remember who picked the least heavy," Four says and gestures with his hands for us to go over to the weights section. He goes over to speak to Eric, and I can almost see the steam coming out of Eric's ears as he lets out his anger in a hushed voice. Something bad must have happened, and I'm quite glad that I'm not the one in the way of Eric's rage.

I pick a weight that seems reasonably sized, and just a little smaller than what Cain and Kyle pick. I knew that they would pick the heaviest, to try and show of their masculinity. It's sort of stupid, seeing as they will tire very quickly and be left with pains all over tomorrow. Strangely, Adam comes over to me once he has picked a weight the same size as mine.

"You're doing well. In training, I mean," he observes. I nod my thanks, wondering where this conversation, or one-way conversation, is going.

"I don't think we got off to a good start, so can we begin again? I understand that maybe you won't talk to me, but everyone needs a friend to lean on…" He drifts off. Is it possible that he actually wants to be my friend? In Dauntless, people are starting to be nice to me, and I don't understand why. It's not like I try to be nice to them.

Like with Damien, Gabe and June, I decide that it could be beneficial. Having someone that would be willing to help me if I needed it. And like Fern, Adam seems sincere. It couldn't hurt to have more friends, could it?

I nod, and a broad grin takes over his face.

"Hi, my name's Adam," He starts. "What's yours?" I smile weakly back at him.

"My name's Anna," I whisper back. He seems shocked that I actually said anything, but then, so am I. I guess I could actually make an effort to have friends.

PAGE BREAK

Lunch arrives, and by the time it does my arms are aching from the weights. Eric seems ruthless in his attempts to make us into strong, Dauntless soldiers. Adam and I traipse into the cafeteria and look around for somewhere to sit. We agreed earlier that we would sit together, because that's what friends do. Except, there are no free tables. I scan the room until I find the Dauntless borns sitting at a table. I gesture to it to show Adam where, and he looks at me like I suggested we both go and catch the plague.

"Are you serious? We can't sit with them! They'll bite our heads off!" I shake my head, preparing myself for my answer. I have tried my best with Adam to speak, and I know that he is grateful for the effort. We hit it off quickly, and I feel reasonably comfortable around him now. I guess enduring hard workouts really brings people together.

"No, I have friends there," I say quietly. He raises one eyebrow but doesn't question me further. I lead him over, and as soon as Damien catches my eye he beckons for us to join them. I sit, and in an attempt to make the situation less awkward, I grab one of the burgers off his plate like he did with Gabe yesterday. He shoots me an incredulous look.

"Look at you! You're making friends and stealing food! What on earth has gotten into you?!" He mock cries. I grin. I can see myself becoming one of these people, and enjoying every moment I get to spend with them. I can see myself having a future with them, loving the life that I lead in Dauntless. That is, only if I pass initiation and manage to keep them.

"This is Adam," I gesture to him, "He's a friend."

"Alas," Says June, sliding down a few seats to join in the conversation, "the Awesome Fivesome has been created." I snort.

"Yeah… no. That doesn't work," Damien says. "Hey, Gabe!" He calls out. I cast my gaze down the table to where he is looking. Gabe sits there, but he doesn't look exactly like Gabe. His blonde hair has electric blue streaks in it, and has been cropped. My face must show confusion, as Damien laughs and explains.

"Yeah, he got slightly drunk last night. But you have to admit, he suits it," And suit it he does – it makes his blue-grey eyes stand out hugely. Gabe excuses himself from the people he was talking to and makes his way towards us.

"What's up, my fellow awesome friends?" He greets.

"Yes, awesome is the problem," Damien says as Gabe takes a seat next to me. "Anna decided to make a new friend and the Awesome Fivesome just doesn't work."

"Dammit Anna! Why must you be so darn popular?" Gabe shouts in mock distress. I burst out laughing, enjoying the bubbling sensation that fills my body with every hearty chuckle.

"So we needed to discuss with you what we would call ourselves, after all, no decision is made without everyone present." June says. I nod in agreement.

"So the Fantastic Fivesome. Easy." Gabe says.

"No." I cut in. "That sounds lame, and let's be honest, Gabe, if it lack creativity it lacks awesomeness."

"I agree with Anna. We need something… more awesome." Damien says. Gabe picks up a piece of food and chucks it at him.

"It was just a suggestion! You come up with something better, then!"

"How about…" Adam starts, "The fanatical fivesome? Because you're obviously obsessed with yourselves,"

"You Erudite, you," June says. "But I like it. The Fanatical Fivesome it is!" We raise our glasses, cheering our new name.

Honestly, this moment of friendship isn't really a huge thing. But to me it is, having a name, with a group of friends feels like acceptance. Like I can finally let all my problems go. And if my friends can accept me, I suppose that means I can accept myself.

PAGE BREAK

"Anna, you're clean." Gabe says. I frown.

"What?" I ask quietly. When I don't make a conscious effort to not talk, it comes easily. Like all the repression over the years has risen inside me and I have to let it out. I like talking.

"You don't have a tattoo. Or a piercing. We need to sort that out." I shake my head. As much as I want to fit in at Dauntless, and as much as I feel I already do, I am not ready to permanently mark my skin. I might regret it after a while, and if I get a tattoo I want it to be meaningful, and not just so that it looks cool.

In fact, I don't know why I am hanging out with my friends right now. I get that it is what normal people would do, but I'm actually exhausted from training today and I'd much rather just go back to the dormitory and sleep.

"Come on, Anna!" June shouts. We're in the Pit, and she's already slightly tipsy. I have bad experiences from when people drink alcohol, so I'd rather refrain from drinking. That doesn't mean that watching my friends get drunk isn't funny.

"No-" I am about to continue, but then I see something strange. Eric stands at the bar, alone. He doesn't appear to be drinking, he just stands. Without doing anything.

"Damien, what's wrong with Eric?" I ask.

"You don't know? I suppose transfers have no way of knowing. My brother told me because he works in close relation to Eric." He says. He isn't drinking, he said it was because he didn't want to be hungover during training tomorrow.

"Apparently this Amity man tried to kill someone today. Eric and some others got called in to restrain him, but the guy was shouting horrible things." My heart plummets. An Amity man? Could it be Alexander?

"Who?" I ask shakily, "who was the guy?"

"Some bloke called Alex or something. I don't really get it, I thought all the Amities were hippies drunk on happy bread or whatever. No offense."

I stop breathing altogether. Suddenly the Pit seems too full of people and I need to get out. I rise from the bar stool I sit on and start to leave. This isn't right. Alexander tried to kill someone. If I had stayed in Amity, that could have been me.

That _would _have been me.

And the Amity are so negligent of those who don't fit in they probably wouldn't have stopped it. Let alone found out about it.

I'm running now, running to get back to the dormitory in desperation to just curl up under the scratchy, cold sheets that the Dauntless provide and escape this world for a few hours. My feet can't carry me fast enough but when I do burst through the door I find Cain and Kyle sitting on their beds, and I know that I can't be in here with them. Ignoring the strange glances I get I leave again, this time making a beeline for the chasm.

I can't stand the thought that a man, a random man, almost took my place in facing Alexander's rage. That man probably hadn't even done anything wrong in his lifetime. I feel sick in thinking that had I not left, that man wouldn't have been hurt.

_Shut up. _I think. _He probably would have still got hurt. You just would have got hurt before him._

For once, my thoughts provide some comfort and not just another dark blanket of worry to hang over my thoughts. But the comfort is minimal, and I find myself fighting back the tears in a way that I haven't done for years.

I stumble to the wall that is next to the chasm and slide to the ground, my hands cradling my head. I want someone to tell me that it will be okay, like a mother would do to her scared child. But I have no-one like that, it's not like I could burden my friends with what I have been through. They shouldn't have to deal with what I deal with.

I could have _died. _The mere thought of it makes tears spike at the back of my eyes and I know that if anyone were to walk past me right now they would know that I'm not Dauntless, that in truth, I'm just a little girl who grew up too fast.

For a while, I sit, engulfed in my own thoughts. But after a while I hear a clunking of boots along the path that leads to where I am sitting and I groan, waiting for the humiliation to start. I try to pull myself into the wall, hoping that my dark clothing will blend into the blackness that surrounds the chasm and I won't be seen. But I have no such luck, and I start to notice a presence standing next to me.

"Initiate, what do you think you're doing?" Eric says. Of _course _it would be Eric that finds me. He probably followed me here, just to bully me some more.

"Sitting," I say. But my voice wavers in between and I hate the weak feeling it gives me.

"Right." Eric doesn't say anymore. Instead, he sits down next to me, a good distance away, but still next to me.

"Rough day?" He asks. I nod my head.

"Dauntless don't cry, so you'd better not be," He warns. I almost let out a laugh. If this is his idea of comfort, it's not working.

"I'm not," I say back scornfully, "besides, you probably don't even know what real crying is."

He doesn't say anything, and for a while we sit in the chasm, in silence.

**Please review, favourite and follow!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys!**

**So, I'm really glad that you have started to ship Eric with Anna! Your reviews are so lovely, they make me smile for ages so please keep them coming! **

**Enjoy!**

ANNA

_On the way back from school I get a lot of weird looks. It's sad that it has happened so many times that I can safely say I'm used to it. However, today is different. I'm sporting a huge purple bruise on my left cheek where Alexander hit me last night. I don't know what to make of it… should I tell the Amity, and try to report an early case of child abuse, or should I wait and hope that he doesn't do it again? It would be wrong to make a fuss about nothing. _

_A Candor boy approaches me as I climb onto the bus and take a seat. His hair is parted neatly and brushed to perfection, despite the windy day. He wears a white t-shirt that clings to him so tightly it's obvious that he is building muscle and probably wants to be a Dauntless. His black shoes are polished to perfection, and his green eyes are alight with the dancing flames of mischief._

_"Hey," he says, sliding into the seat next to me. I usher closer to the window. "Are you that Amity girl?" _

_He looks about 13 years old, so only a few older than me. I look down to the ground, hoping that nothing will come of this conversation and he'll just leave me alone if I don't respond. _

_"The one with parents who literally got blown to smithereens?" I feels tears prick at the back of my eyes. I don't need to remember how they screamed or how they yelled, or how I couldn't, no, _didn't, _help. _

_A few people snigger behind us. They must be his friends, if someone like him can even have friends. I wonder what he gets out of this, out of picking on those younger than him. Making fun of an abused child's dead parents._

No, _I tell myself, _you're not abused. Alexander just got angry once, and lashed out. Don't jump to conclusions.

_I ignore the boy the whole way home. Tears threaten to spill over my eyes with every thought of my parents. When I get into the house I rush to my room, letting everything out. I pick one heavy textbook from my schoolbag and throw it against the wall. It shouldn't have been me. Why, why couldn't it have been anyone else? I had a family! What does this world have against me that it had to make me defenceless and hopeless whilst my family burn to death?! _

_"What the hell are you doing?!" Alexander shouts, storming into my room. I sit on my bed, hoping that he'll comfort me, and then maybe afterwards he'll apologize for how he hit me last night. It hasn't happened before, so I don't expect it to happen again and I'm sure he didn't mean it. _

_But my expectations fall through as he advances towards me and raises his fist in the air. He brings it down to hit my upper arm, and I cry out in pain. As he draws away he swings his elbow into my stomach, almost making me retch and I cough as I try to overcome the hurt that begins to blossom throughout my system. _

_"Please!" I cry._

I awake with a start. Sitting up in bed, I remember that I am not back at Amity, but here, in Dauntless. I suppose I could call this home now.

I try to shake the memory of my first real abuse out of my head, but no matter how hard I push it just never leaves. I guess the feeling of utter hopelessness and devastation never really leave a person, just decide to hide in sinister places until the world calls them out again just as your downfall begins. Back then I was confused and depressed, but still people didn't _really _see me. They saw a poor girl with dead parents, not a helpless child without support – _let alone parents – _who had no idea what nightly horrors she would start to suffer from that would torment her forever. I was spilt into sharp shards of glass, scattered all over. A piece of me died with my parents, a piece of me was left at school in the hopes that someone would notice my struggles and rescue me from the depths of my own mind and a piece remains stolen by Alexander. I carry the smallest part of myself, the bit that is only a broken picture without all my other parts.

I decide that I need a walk, and while I do so I can also do the punishment Eric assigned to me. I actually don't mind anymore, because when I think about it, yes it hurts, but it _is _technically building my muscles. By giving me this as a job Eric was sort of looking out for me and helping me through training. Not that it was his intention, though. He probably just wanted to see me struggle.

But does he? After last night I don't really know anymore. We sat in silence for what seemed like hours, before I awkwardly got up and left. He didn't push me for an explanation to why I was upset and alone, and I didn't bother him about his day. It seemed almost peaceful, but I know better than to hope for that around Eric. This was probably just a calm bit where we both needed time out and happened to be in the same area. The fact remains, however, that I now know that Eric has a more human side where he doesn't have to bully everyone all the time. He actually has a part of him that is willing to sit quietly.

I peel off my clothes and rush to the bathroom. It's very early in the morning so no one is yet awake, but I doubt that me taking a shower will bother them that much. I leave my change of clothes on the bench outside the cubicles and hop with my bare feet over the cold showers into the shower.

I turn the water on cold, enjoying the feeling of life it bestows on me. I snigger quietly to myself when I think of which one of my peers will hop into this shower later, not bothering to check the temperature because most people use hot water. They'd be in for a nasty surprise.

I scrub myself down to the best of my ability, carefully avoiding the scabs on my skin that are still healing from the night before the choosing ceremony. I haven't actually been at Dauntless that long, but it feels like forever already. I sort of wish that it had been forever, as then I would still probably have a family – a different family, mind, but still a family – and I wouldn't have bumpy lines taking over the majority of my body. I look like an unfinished painting, one that the artist decided to stroke some paint onto before giving up. I know that if I wasn't covered in scars that my body would be a desirable one – quite, but not weirdly short, with a slim figure and soft curves. I suppose under my clothes I look normal, but underneath is a whole different story. I look like an alien.

I climb out the shower, my body finding the what was once cold air pleasantly cooling in comparison to the ice cold jets of water that were shot at me a few seconds ago. I pull my hair into a high ponytail, letting drops of water drips down my back and leave marks on the clothes that I then pull on.

I jog out of the dorms, noting the time as I go. It's just after three, so I have high doubts that anyone will be out any more. It occurs to me that I only slept for a very short amount of time, after all, I got back to the dorms quite late after being with Eric.

It is only now, upon taking a long stroll through the darkened and quiet corridors of the compound, that I remember what sparked such nightmares for me. I guess I was so caught up in the amazement that Eric could go a while without being horrid that I forgot what brought us together in the first place. I could have died, but for some reason now the thought doesn't bother me so much. Perhaps it is because Eric reminded me that Dauntless don't cry, which told me that I there's no point in being weak right now, or perhaps it's because I just suffered through the first night of it once more… one that I thought I left behind along with the other conflicted and terrified emotions and I know that I have been through the worst, and come out living.

If you can call the empty shell that is me living.

I honestly don't know what to think of my time in Amity. I hated it, without a doubt, and begged every day for someone to see the potential in me and drag me out of the darkness. But there is the lingering feeling that I know that I went through hell, and came out standing. I pushed past the sinister thread that tugged me towards the idea that I deserved it, and I fought my inner demons that reminded me every day that reminded me that there was an easy way out… a comfortable, fast way to leave the torture.

I arrive in the training room, glad to know that it isn't locked even at this time in the morning. It seems stupid to leave it unlocked as any drunk Dauntless member could just walk in and grab a knife. But I guess that the Dauntless are pretty big on fighting and anyone attacked with a knife could probably defend themselves.

I head to the corner where the table is, looking forward to the burning sensation that I am guaranteed to get in my muscles after this. I lift it up, finding that it comes easier than it did at first. With the constant workouts that Four and Eric are putting us through my strength is building rapidly and I can actually enjoy training bit more now than I did to begin with.

I think back to yesterday when Eric came storming in. Four was the only one who didn't seem scared of his anger, which interests me slightly. From what I hear, Four is a Dauntless prodigy and is well respected here. It's a puzzle though, because Eric doesn't seem to. From listening to other Dauntless members I have gathered that there is some rivalry between Four and Eric, because Four was ranked first and Eric second. Also, Four is the only person to have ever beaten Eric in a fight. But Eric is a leader, and Four is not. You would think that because Four can defeat Eric that some respect would be necessary there, but Eric doesn't seem the respectful type. He seems like he wants to prove that he is better, even though he was always second best. Is that maybe why he is as brutal as he is?

Lugging the table across the room, I barely notice someone enter the room. Of course, my initial thought is that it _is _some drunken party-goer in search of a knife, but it turns out it is only Eric. He looks tired, his usually sharp posture sagging slightly with every breath he takes. I don't know whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. Besides, why is he up at this time in the morning anyway?

"I didn't think you'd actually do your punishment this early in the morning," Eric says. I try to detect the usual sneer in his voice, but find nothing but weariness. How long has he been up?

I don't say anything, but just continue doing what I'm doing. I don't care whether Eric is here or not, in fact, his presence here just boosts me to strive harder.

"Why are you up so early?" He asks.

"I could ask you the same," I bite back. He sighs and shoots me an exasperated glare.

"I asked first, and need I remind you I _am _your leader."

"Couldn't sleep," I say truthfully.

"I had to cover in the control room," He says.

We are silenced for a while, with the rare grunt of me making a sharp turn to carry the table back across the room. When I finish, I drop it down in the corner again and sit on it.

"When you said I didn't know what real crying was-" Eric begins, but I don't let him finish.

"That doesn't concern you,"

"You have no right to speak to me like that."

I glare at him, and he glares right back. I'm not interested in his petty games, or his frivolous attempts to annoy me. They get in the way of my training, even though right now I'm technically not.

I let out a sigh – this is pointless. I throw my legs off the table and head over to the punching bags. I roll my sleeves up and push the few strands of hair that cling to my sweaty forehead back into the rest of my hair. I take my stance, preparing to take a hit when Eric calls out again.

"Your stance is sloppy. You're tired."

I heave a frustrated sigh and turn back to him.

"And what do you suggest I do, huh? Sleep? That's not going to happen."

I turn back to my bag, making a conscious effort to stand up tall and not look like I'm craving sleep. I didn't realise how tired I actually was until he called me out on it. I suppose I haven't slept that well for the past two days really, so it only makes sense that I am sleepy. It won't do, especially while I need my rest for training, but I grit my teeth and push through it. This is not the time for failure due to lack of basic needs.

I slam my fist against the bag, grinning with the satisfactory surge of adrenaline that reminds me why I chose Dauntless in the first place. I begin to pound against the bag, forgetting that Eric is here, so after a while I try to knee the bag again. Like last time, I stumble. I wrinkle my nose at the sudden anti-climax of ability, but get up all the same and try again.

In a heartbeat, Eric is by my side, instructing me on what to do with where I went wrong, and telling me to place my hands at the top of the bag if I can reach with comfortable distance. I grab the bag, using it for stability and driving my knee hard into the centre. The impact leaves me smiling, and I know that in a fight if I manage to grab hold of someone's shoulders and perform that exact move I will leave them unable to attack back for a while. Eric stands next to me whilst I train, watching like a hawk for any false move.

When I eventually cannot continue, he doesn't say a word, and just leaves the room silently. I am left with one thought running through my head:

_Maybe Eric isn't so bad after all._

**Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys!**

**Just a quick note to say – one of you said that you had thought that I stopped updating. I haven't, it's just that on schooldays I struggle because school ends late and I have ****_very _****far to walk home. Not to mention the homework load. I will tell you if I am going to take a break from writing – no fear. Oh, and to do with this chapter, I wrote the first half when my phone was out of charge so had no musical inspiration. The chapters that are a better quality of writing are always when I'm listening to music. But the quality improves about halfway down. **

**Also, one or two reviews per chapter? Please, I think you can do better! Your reviews mean an awful lot, and tell me that someone actually appreciates my writing.**

ANNA

The chain from which the bag is hanging from groans with every violent punch I send in its direction. I huff, sending one more fist flying at it before it hits the ground with a loud thud. Immediately I am on it, sending punches from all directions to where the face would be, giving it no mercy. If this were a person, they'd be dead by now.

And rightly so. If it were him I would have taken him out, as slowly as possible. Menace boils in my stomach as I think back to this morning after I came back in from training with Eric.

_I notice that everyone is awake by the time I get back into the dorms. Cain has his legs swung over the side of his bed, appearing sleepy but I can already see the cold fire in his eyes that sends horrible shivers down my spine. _

_Quickly, wanting to no longer be in the room with him, I grab some clothes from my drawer and walk to the showers. I am in desperate need of another, even though I already took one earlier. I leave my clothes in the little gap underneath the shower stall's door, so that they don't get wet when the water runs. The doors don't lock, but I pull it shut so people don't see in. _

_Lathering my hands with the soap that is here I rub myself down, allowing the warm water to run down my body, washing everything off. I sigh contentedly, relaxing completely and closing my eyes. _

_I jump when I hear a scuffle from the front of the door, I jump slightly at the unexpected noise. When I open my eyes I frown, confused as to what is happening. Turning the water off, I step forward and bend down to reach my clothes, but find nothing where they should be. Alarm bells ring in my head – this isn't good, they can't see me! The scars that litter my body like dust on a hard surface seem to be more prominent now that I am at risk of being found out. If I had courage, like a real Dauntless should, I would waltz out there and just grab a new pile. But a normal Dauntless wouldn't have marks of abuse all over their bodies. _

_I begin to panic, letting my brain whirl through thoughts at one hundred miles per hour. I could call out and ask for my clothes back. That would be the Amity thing to do, but I'm no Amity. I could always threaten whoever is out there, however, I don't really think I'm in a position to makes threats when I'm standing naked in a shower stall that anyone could walk into if they wanted to. _

They could walk in_. The worst thought only occurs to me now, and my thoughts seem to crescendo as soon as the four words pass through my head. Fear flares and I melt down, collapsing to the ground in defeat. This is not how I wanted people to find out, and I didn't really plan on telling anyone anyway. I cross my legs and think. There is no way I can get out of this, not exactly, unless someone comes to save me… which there is practically no hope of. A Dauntless member would laugh and tell me to get over the fear of being seen naked, and it's not like Fern or Adam will stand up to Cain._

_It's humorous how I just assumed that it was Cain who did it. But he was the only one who was about to stand up, and he is probably the only one who would pull something like this. _

_"Give me my clothes back!" I shout. Someone laughs on the other side of the door, a cruel, cold laugh that can only belong to Cain. I knew it, I just knew it. _

_"Why don't you come and get them?" _

_I spit at his suggestion._

_"Or, even better, how about I come in there and give them to you. I heard Amity girls are easy… actually I bet that's why you're so crabby all the time. You haven't been fucked in a while." _

_I recoil at his words like they are a physical weapon against me. I begin to feel sick. No one has ever spoken to me like that, about that, before, not even Alexander. The idea is grotesque, that Amity girls are easy to do. No, they have their rights and every girl has a choice. _

_"Cain, give me my clothes now!" I say in the most threatening voice I can, but to no prevail. The door on front of me begins to inch open, and I crouch into a ball in the corner, trying to hide as much of myself as possible. Cain comes into view, and glee dances in his eyes as he sees me. _

_But as soon as he appeared, he disappears again with a thud. Clothes are thrown in my direction, and I scramble into them as fast as possible before tentatively walking out the showers. I see Damien on top of Cain, punches flying everywhere in what looks like an even fight._

I kick the punching bag hard, sure to break a few ribs had it been Cain. Damien did an excellent job of beating him up, but came out of top with almost as many bruises. Apparently Fern ran through to the Dauntless borns room and told him that I was in trouble, which I will always thank her for. Cain didn't see much, but he still saw me and that drives me even more to attack the bag with even more force.

"Initiate, it's late and that punching bag is clearly dead. What is it?"

Eric had come in about an hour ago, and gave me pointers on what I was doing wrong. He retired and is now leaning casually against the table that I work so hard to carry every morning.

"Nothing," I say back. I lost the will to be mean to Eric after how much he has helped me with my training. I'm lethal, and it's all down to him. I could probably even withstand him for a while.

In a second he is next to me, grabbing my arm and stopping my fist from colliding with the punching back again. I groan in frustration – this is not what I need right now. I had to withhold my anger during gun training, especially with Cain only two spaces away from me, but now, _now _I can pretend that this is him and I can beat the crap out of it all I want. I jerk my arm away from his grasp, and he lets go. I feel a strange burning sensation remain on my arm where he touched me, like his hand is still on my arm.

"That," He gestures to the punching bag that lies destroyed on the floor, "Is not nothing."

"It is _nothing," _I say. Although I try my best to make my voice sound as truthful as possible he rolls his eyes at me, a sign that he doesn't believe a single word I say.

"If you're not going to tell me, you're not going to fight the punching bag anymore. You need real practice in getting up your reaction time."

I step backwards towards the punching bag as if it is my one defence. I really don't like where this is going.

"So fight me." He says. I shake my head at him. "Come on, I don't bite,"

"Of course you don't bite," I say sarcastically, "That's why you threatened to hang me over the chasm."

He just shakes his head at me and gets into the sparring position, his hands just above his neck in equal defence to his head and torso, his feet spread apart. He doesn't look tense, but I know that I am. Eric could seriously harm me, and just because there is some sort of unspoken truce between us it doesn't mean that he couldn't lash out if he wanted to. If he _really _wanted to, he could do some major damage. I don't trust him.

Like him, I part my feet and fall into the comfortable and balanced stance that I have worked so hard on. I know that if I can get up my reaction and defence, I've got the strength to pass me through this part of initiation. But I need a high enough score so that during the emotional stage, stage two, I don't completely fall behind. I've heard horror stories about how bad it is, but without going into detail and I have no idea what awaits me. If I can even land a few hits on Eric I will count it as a win.

We circle for a while, and he occasionally steps forward suddenly to test my reaction. I know what he's doing – he's trying to throw me off my game by taunting and irritating me. I'm not going to let it work, because if I do I will lose everything for sure.

It comes to a time where it's clear that for training's sake he's not going to make the first move. So I decide to take him by surprise and feign a kick to his side, which he goes to block with one hand whilst I jump up and redirect a kick towards his stomach. He grabs hold of my foot in mid-air and shoves me backwards forcefully, causing me to stumble. In the time that I am delayed he brings his fist to my stomach, which I feebly deflect and if it had been a real punch with proper power behind it I definitely would have failed to stop it. He gives me the chance to regain my balance and before he realises it I have put my fist, which I had acted was sore, right in his face. He is caught off guard, but I know that this will be the only time. I've used the surprise card, but it is a one-time use and I know that now he will be on his best game and he won't allow me to get him unexpectedly again.

While he is recovering I make to hook my leg around the back of his knees, but to my utter humiliation he tenses and doesn't buckle like I wanted him to. That one came from instinct, but I guess he was prepared for it. It occurs to me that we haven't learned any takedown moves from Four, which I guess is just part of the way the Dauntless train us. Four informed us before training today that when we started fighting we would not be allowed to concede. The best way to win a non-conceding fight would be to put someone unconscious in the least bloody and painful way possible, which we haven't been taught. However, I don't think this was Four's purpose – to teach us only to punch and kick so that the fights would be as bad as possible, no, I think that Four isn't really such a bad person. I believe this is the Dauntless' horrible way of teaching us to withstand pain.

Eric takes my moment of thinking as a cue for him to go on offense, and he connects his foot with my side. I groan but keep standing. That will definitely bruise tomorrow, but I think I'll survive. I try a few more punches, which, to my annoyance, he continuously blocks. It becomes a game, of sorts, to see who can land the first punch. He throws everything at me, punching flying at me from every direction. But I use my small frame and manage to doge the majority and forcing myself to show no signs of pain whenever he does hit me. I don't deflect his hits – I'm much smarter than that. Blocking one of Eric's punches would be the exact same as being punched elsewhere. He's much stronger than I am so trying to stop force hitting me by using force wouldn't exactly work.

I decide that I need a new tactic. I try to imagine Cain in my mind, and his leering and gleeful smile that played on his face as he walked in on me before Damien took care of him. My poker face becomes one of anger as I send a whirlwind of different punches and kicks at Eric. He manages to block most of them, and I only manage to land one or two but I keep coming, keep fighting and envisioning Cain's face as I move so fast that I don't let him get anything in edgeways. Red clouds my sight and I fight harder, punch harder, kick harder. I don't stop until Eric decides that enough is enough and grabs my knee mid-kick and spins me round so my shoulder blades are digging into the middle of his chest. Despite my tired state, a dull spark runs through me and I feel wide awake.

"Now I'm going to ask you again, initiate, what it wrong?"

"He stole my clothes," I pant, "then purposefully walked in on me when I was in the shower."

I break free from Eric's hold. Exhaustion fogs over my mind as I stumble over to the beaten up punching bag from earlier and collapse onto it. I don't have a clear idea as to why I told Eric, but I think I was just too sleepy to argue. I put my head in my hands and ignore the prickle at the back of my eyes that hints at the tears to come. It's been a long day, I'm _really _tired and one of the boys in my initiate class decided that he wanted to see me in the nude. Crying just seems to be the best method to release the raving monster inside of me that just wants to escape.

I think that Eric believes that I am overreacting to a boy seeing me naked. Most girls would blush maybe, then avoid then for a while. But with me, if he saw even _one _of my scars, it is clear from the appearance that it was done with a blade and I'm sure that if he saw more than one, he would know what I've been through. So far he only knew my name and my faction of origin, but now my entire backstory is at threat and if he knows, he'll tell everyone. If he tells everyone, people will look at me differently. My quite survival will become everybody's business as they try to figure out what happened to the girl with too many scars on her body to count.

"I know there's something bigger behind it," Eric starts, his voice sounding strangled. I look up at him, but immediately regret it as my head swims with fatigue and tired tears form in my eyes. "But I'm not going to ask. You're Dauntless now."

I recognise the threat behind it, but I feel comforted by his words, which I'm sure wasn't one of his intentions. I'm Dauntless now – I left Alexander behind. I can deal with any other problems like a Dauntless would – bravely and with strength.

I am going to fight Cain when we are paired for rankings, I know Eric will make sure of that. And when I do, I'm going to win.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey peeps! **

**This chapter is extra-long so you'd better appreciate it! Just to say, it will be visiting day in about 2-3 chapters, and I have something ****_very _****special planned – something that I have been preparing for, for ages. No, it will not be do with Alexander, contrary to what I assume to be popular belief. If you have any ideas as to what it might be leave a review. I'm ****_very _****excited to be writing it. **

ANNA

After a while of silence, Eric comes and sits next to me. The punching bag, which is already leaking sand from where I split it with my constant punching, sags underneath the weight of the two of us.

"I have a question," Eric says. I turn my head slowly towards him, allowing him to continue. My eyes meet his and the spark that I felt earlier courses through me again, this time more prominently.

"Ask away." I reply, my voice monotonous and not giving away how alive his presence makes me feel. It shouldn't, but it does. I suppose I crave the air of danger that Eric carries around with him, not because I associate it with him, but because it sends the thrills of adrenaline and excitement through me. Sitting with Eric is like jumping off the train, or plummeting into the net. Electrifying.

"You're not trained to – I mean, how the ruddy _hell _did you not even wince when I hit you?"

I look away again.

_"Anna! Get back here!" Alexander screams as I run away into my bedroom, pressing my back against the door in a failing attempt to keep him out. He slams against the door, again and again and I scream in pain as I am pushed to the ground as it flies open. Tears run down my face like a waterfall as Alexander creeps towards me, an enraged and crazy grin painted on his face. It's like madness. _

_He kicks my small frame and I splutter helplessly as his foot connects with my stomach. He lets out a triumphant noise with every pained wail I let out. He punches my chest, hard, knowing that will hurt me in particular. I scream, begging for him to stop and for my parents to come back and save me from this monster that terrorises me, day in and out. This is the one nightmare that doesn't end when I wake up._

A single tear rolls down my cheek. I forgot that Eric is here, and as soon as I remember I go to wipe it. But he gets there first, his rough and calloused knuckles running along my skin and catching the teardrop before it can travel further down my face. Heat rushes to my face and recoil slightly, regretting it instantly when his warm hand leaves my face and I am left cowering, like a wounded animal. His hand hovers in the air for a second, before he comes to his senses and quickly balls it up in his lap with his other fist. He looks away, and I can tell by the way that his muscles tense that he is unhappy with either his actions, or my reaction. I look back at his back, something boiling away in the pit of my stomach that I can't quite name. I feel like I hurt him, although undoubtedly he'll forget this moment of stupidity and the caring gesture by tomorrow.

I should leave, it's obvious that he doesn't want my company right now. That doesn't mean I want to leave, nor does it mean that I will. I'm not ready to, and I want to be near him right now. The gravity and comfort of the punching bag seems to triple as I debate leaving, and come to the conclusion that even if I _did _want to, I couldn't. I want to feel that spark again, the one I get every time that I feel Eric touch me.

"Eric?" I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. He turns around, his back no longer towards me and stares me in the eye. The softness that I saw when he wiped away my tear has gone, and right now his eyes look steely and sharp, like a blade. I stare back, refusing to back down from our little contest. I wonder where he came, from, and what kind of upbringing he must have had to act in such a way. The way he holds himself suggests that he cannot be Dauntless born, although at first glance it would seem like he was here for his entire life. No, he must have been a transfer, but from where? His cold eyes deny Amity, and if he was he most likely wouldn't be here. No Amities transfer to Dauntless, except me, I guess. He can't be Abnegation – no one with an Abnegation background would issue punishments as tough as he does. Eric seems sneaky, in a way that he would lie too easily to be a Candor, which leaves Erudite. It fits well, every movement that he makes appears calculated and to the point, and his eyes carry the hard look that every disapproving Erudite would wear.

"Initiate," He growls. I feel a little saddened at the change of heart, but I choose to ignore it. Now is not the time to make friends with my instructor, of all people.

"Can you teach me a few takedown moves?"

PAGE BREAK

Cain watches me from across the breakfast table. The smug look that resides in his green eyes does not go amiss by me, but I don't let it affect me. He looks more beaten up than Damien, who looks slightly… _dead_, to say the least. Both his eyes are black, and the shadows of being kept awake in the infirmary add to the look. He looks hollow, but liveliness dances in his eyes. He has multiple bruises covering the rest of his face and his nose is crooked, with a sickeningly yellow tint covering the sides. It's not pretty, but I'm not sure that's all June is thinking about as she walks over to us, a grimace painted on his usually happy face.

"Seriously? Beating up a transfer? I wondered why you weren't in training yesterday and where you were last night. I had just assumed that you finally found someone that actually wanted to do you, so I didn't ask questions! But what the hell, Damien, why the fuck were you beating up a transfer!?" She rants. I have to cover a smile when I detect a small hint of jealously when she mentions him finding someone. June and Damien have always seemed close, but no closer than Damien and Gabe. I didn't even begin to think that she may like him, but now the option seems so clear it almost feels like it was staring me in the face the whole time and I have no idea how I missed it.

"Sit your ass down, girl, let the boy explain," Gabe says. June huffs and takes the seat next to me, opposite Adam.

"It's nothing, June." Damien says. "I just caught a pervert and decided to beat him up, that's all!"

I don't miss the dark look that crosses Cain's face.

Just then, I notice a movement at the doors to the cafeteria, and turn my head just in time to watch Eric enter the room. Four follows closely behind, but my attention is only on the leader. It feels like I have never really taken the time to admire him, or notice the small details. It seems stupid how I have subconsciously tuned my ears to pick up the heavy clunking of his boots, or how I can tell when it's him just by the masculine, sweet scent that surrounds him. But all those things go over my head as I don't hesitate to scan over the huge muscles that flex with every deft and precise move he makes.

I shake the thoughts out my head and remember who he is. It's _Eric, _the man who made me carry a table across a room as a punishment and threatened to hang me over the chasm. The one who on my first night here told me that I would have to eat meat and talk. If anything I should hate the man for making me tread carefully through Dauntless, and for making me so confused right now. I know that I can't trust him, and that he could blow at any moment. I know that he is violent at best, and I have had way too much violence in my life already.

He starts to talk to Four, I don't catch what because I am so far away but he seems in a particularly bad mood today, worse than normal and Four doesn't seem to be much happier. They are together a lot like they are friends, but when they talk it hints at resentment.

"What's their deal?" I ask out loud, alerting Damien and June who until now were arguing.

"Who?" Gabe asks.

"Eric and Four," I reply. "I can't figure them out. At some points they seem almost like friends and then… bam. Look at them now."

Damien and Gabe turn in their seats. June averts her gaze to the bickering Dauntless.

"I suppose you don't know the story because you weren't born here," Damien begins. Gabe rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh of annoyance.

"Of course she doesn't know. I'm just tired of hearing the story of the two Dauntless that don't like each other because one beat up the other," I raise one eyebrow. I can't imagine anyone beating up Four – for some reason the quiets ones are often the most dangerous. Eric seems unbeatable though, in a way that I cannot even picture anyone beating him in a fight. So which one lost?

"Christ, Gabe, there's more to it than that." June says.

"Yeah," Damien says defensively. He turns back to me. "During their initiation, Four beat Eric in their fight. They have fought rarely since, but every time they have Four has beaten him. Four ranked first in initiation, and Eric second. There is a _hell _of a lot of rivalry between them. Four is the only one in this compound who isn't afraid of Eric."

Mentally, I correct him. _I _am not afraid of Eric either. Although there is clearly something _to _fear, it just doesn't work for me. I guess scary men and big muscles are ruined for me after my childhood – they're not scary anymore. Anything violence related doesn't frighten me like I did when I was a small child.

_"I'm going to make you regret that!" Alexander shouts as he holds my chin with one of his hands and repeatedly hits my face all over with his other. I cry out, writhing around in a desperate attempt to get away from him, but to no prevail. He brings his other hand to my forehead and grips it tightly as he smashes my head against the wall. Pain erupts in my skull and I can see no more._

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to forget the memory. I'm not there anymore.

"So…" I latch on to the first piece of information that comes to mind like it is my lifeline. "Everyone's scared of Eric?" June nods.

Maybe that's why he's so closed off. It works in a circle, one that I was trapped in not so long ago with not so different circumstances. Eric isn't outspoken, and he does things with deadly precision and strength, so people became afraid of him. So they didn't talk to him. And grew more and more afraid.

I know how lonely things can get, and I wonder whether Eric really _is _lonely, or he just is an asshole of a person. It doesn't concern me at all, and I shouldn't really be thinking about it.

PAGE BREAK

"Today we are going to be throwing knives. It is a necessary requirement to be able to defend yourself in all ways here, so learn fast. I will only demonstrate once." Four calls to us. He sounds pissed off, and not the usual quiet and dangerous. Anyone who gets involved with Four must be brave, not that I have seen anyone do so. He's usually alone or with Eric, and when they are together, they certainly don't seem to be happy about it. I wonder what ticked him off this time.

Knife throwing seems to be the part of initiation that I am ridiculously bad at. Every single time that I throw a knife I seem to tense, causing it to falter in my grasp and hit the outside of a target with a clang, and then fall to the floor. I know why I am this way – beating up someone, I can deal with. It's fair, at times, and they can honestly fight back. But someone coming at you with a knife, no, that is _definitely _not okay. I've had the worst possible experience with knives, and imagining myself doing that to someone else repulses me. Whenever I pick up a knife I recoil, scared that it will cut me now as it so often did for years.

I bend down to pick up my next knife off the floor. I'm not really looking at it, finding immediate dislike in the hauntingly familiar appearance. However, not watching what I'm picking up comes back at me as I pick up the wrong piece of the knife and cut my fingers. I let out a gasp, dropping the knife to the floor. I watch as small, scarlet drops seep from my skin, slowly running down my hand and leaving a pinkish trail in their wake. Blood is strange, and slightly poetic really in its beauty that can only be derived from harm. A single droplet falls to the floor.

_"Anna," Alexander sings. He's in a good mood today. "Come and make the dinner, will you?" _

_I hobble down the stairs, miss-stepping on occasion and stumbling forward. Hope warms inside of me when I see his smile, knowing that this is the man that first took me in, not the man who used me to take out his anger on ever since. But my hope comes crashing down into the depths of dread as I notice the metallic glint that peeks out from behind his back. I swallow thickly, almost choking on my own spit as a lump forms in my throat and panic begins to rise inside me. I'm still recovering from the last beating and god knows that I'll have lasting scars from this one._

_His call for me to make the dinner was fake, and he was just waiting for the perfect lie to come to mind so that he could hurt me. I know now that my previous interpretation of his mood was false, and in fact he's feeling the opposite. He has never used a knife before, but the way the glee dances in his eyes tells me that it will become regular. _

_Advancing towards me slowly, he pulls the knife out from behind him. It's beautiful, bejewelled in a way that you could never find anymore. I'm sure he must have gotten it from somewhere that wasn't exactly the cleanest business, but Alexander's legal – or illegal – activities are the least of my worries at the moment. _

_In a flash the knife has torn my sleeve as it digs into my flesh. I let out a wail, one which turns into a scream as he twists the knife and sticks it deeper._

I wipe the blood off my workout trousers, ignoring the stinging that comes with it. This is really not the time for bad memories.

The next knife I throw doesn't go anywhere near the target, as the blood that flows steadily out my hand makes the handle slippery and it almost falls out my hand as I whip it throw the air. It seems like Fern has found her coming, as she seems to have an excellent aim. I'm sure that had she more muscle she would have beaten everyone in gun training, instead she got the full force of the recoil and came out of the training room that day with almost no bullets in the target.

I become increasingly frustrated with my inability to throw a knife correctly. Four doesn't seem to be anywhere near me, as he's busy correcting Kyle's stance who is at the opposite end of the training room to me. Eric isn't even here, and even if he was I'm not so sure that I would want to see him. We haven't spoken since that night in the training room after what happened with Cain, and I don't know whether I will see the caring side of Eric that so briefly escaped his walls, or the tough, all-business asshole that walks the Dauntless compound like a brooding monster.

After lunch we're running laps, which is easy for me. My small frame and little weight makes it easy for me to carry myself through the wind and to the finish.

Evening hits, and I decide to skip dinner tonight. My friends will probably miss me, but I'm sure after a while they'll forget it. I really need to practice knives before Eric comes in for training tomorrow – if I do meet the dark side of Eric I do not want to be the failing initiate that will face his anger.

The training room is empty as ever. Only my light breathing pierces the silence that surrounds it, the kind of silence that only occurs when chaos is happening elsewhere. And this is Dauntless, so it will only be the usual in the cafeteria. There is always something going on, and it's quite comforting really, knowing that somewhere in the compound, someone is getting drunk, or in danger, or getting beaten up. No matter how horrible it sounds, it's calming to know that there is always someone worse off than you.

But that only comes into context when it's based on present, not past. I think if it how well off someone was at the moment was calculated on their past I would be right at the bottom of the ladder, with no means of climbing back up. I have lasting scars, and it's not like I could ever get rid of them.

I stand in the silence, enjoying it, for a moment or two before I snap into action. I sweep the training room with my gaze, noting where the punching bags hang as per usual, where the table that I carried sits and… I notice something new. There's a cupboard, a small one, which lies at the back of the training room. I'm guessing that's where all the knives and guns are kept seeing as I can't find them right now.

Although what I'm doing is wrong, taking out equipment after hours no-one, with the exception of Eric who doesn't really seem to care anymore, has stopped me before when I used the punching bags. Training with weapons just seems so much worse and more out of bounds than normal muscle building. But this is Dauntless, and I have to be daring if I want to win.

I make my way over to the training cupboard, grasping the handle firmly with my hand and tugging. It doesn't move. Oh, of course they keep it locked! Might as well just close off the whole area so no initiates can improve the things that they are failing miserably at.

"What are you doing, initiate?" I here Eric's voice from the doorway. It seems to be a regular meeting place for us. It would be stupid for me to think that I could come here without running into him, but I don't mind as much as I did. In fact, the company is quite nice, especially while I'm training and he can give me pointers on how to improve.

"I, er, building muscle?" I say, more like a question than a statement.

"And you were doing that by trying to open the weapons cupboard," Eric deadpans. Heat rushes to my face and I look down, embarrassed.

"No, I kind of sucked at knife throwing today and I just wanted to practice." I say. Eric rolls his eyes and makes his way over to me. He brings out a key from his pocket, swinging it in my face with a _'duh' _expression on his face. I step back, allowing him to open the door. He does, and walks in to the cupboard which appears to be bigger than I imagined it to be. I follow him in, looking in amazement at the many stacked guns and the knives hanging off the wall.

"You can use the knives under my supervision, grab a few, but just don't let the door-" he cuts off as the door swings shut with a loud bang behind me. He groans, and curses under his breath. "Close." He finished. I turn round to look at the door, seeing instantly that it has no handle on this side.

"What the hell? Why is there no handle?" I shout.

"Because." Eric says. I fold my arms, huffing at him.

"So we're locked in here?" I exclaim, annoyance pushing its way to the surface and bubbling out my mouth. I don't want to be locked in here with Eric, with multiple weapons – one of us will probably end up killing the other.

The knives that are sitting in boxes to the side of me shine in the flickering lamp above us, their appearance slightly more rugged than the ones we use in training. They must be the old ones, the ones that no one ever uses again. The broken, beaten down and worn ones.

I sigh, sliding down to the floor and crossing my legs. This is not the way I planned on spending my evening. Eric follows suit, his muscular torso seeming even more so in closer quarters. He looks tired, but then, he often does these days. From appearance, he only really looks around seventeen or eighteen, and I can't imagine the pressure of being a leader at that age. Especially as he has no one, or no one that I know of, that will support him through it. Eric is alone, and he's the coldest person I know. But that night, as he wiped away my tear, I saw something different inside him – something that made my heart flutter nervously. I would much prefer he were like that all the time. It would make him less alone, less close-off than he is now, and I know that it would be good for him. Everyone deserves a little bit of compassion, and I think right now, seeing his worn and tired state he needs it more than anyone.

"Eric?" He stares down at the ground between us. "Can I ask you a question?"

He looks up, meeting my eyes. Immediately I can see the fragile pieces in his razor sharp eyes, and I wonder why I didn't see them before. Why no one saw them before. Eric appears so tough most of the time, but behind his hardened façade he really is just as lonely as I was in Amity. This is the Eric that I saw as he wiped away my tear, braving my rejection as I moved away. I wonder how many times he has been rejected in his life, by family, by friends, or by… _girlfriends _that has caused him to become such a bully. Every bully has something that is pushing them to be like they are, and I think I just discovered why Eric is like he is.

"Why do you push people away?"

I'm skating on thin ice right here, I know I am. He could back away, or he could call me out and embarrass me. This could go any way, and if he turns away I'm not sure I'll find the strength to follow. I won't pursue Eric's secrets, but how am I supposed to help anyone if I don't try? I'm being the person that I craved to find in Amity, one that would ask me what was up, one that would be willing to let me share. I believe that this is what Eric needs, someone to break down his tough exterior. I'm not sure if I'm that person, but I know that anyone, if they had really tried, could have saved me from the darkness of my own mind.

Eric clears his throat.

"If I answer that, will you promise me that you'll answer a question back?" I nod, clear on the fact that if I were to say no this entire conversation would be lost and Eric would just become my initiation instructor, nothing more. We could be friends, if the weird, distorted way that two broken people bond. In this moment I know for sure, but not where it came from, that I want to know Eric. I want to know him, and I think I want him to know me.

"I don't. Really, what I'm saying is that people just didn't come near me in the first place." He says. His eyes, which look like pleas of help betray his indifferent voice. What he says can only be partly true, as there must have been a reason as to why people stayed away. But I leave it for now, hoping that his question won't be too difficult.

"Why didn't you talk, you know, to begin with?" He asks. He sounds worried, ever so slightly. But I don't think it's about why I never spoke, I more think it's to do with the fact that he may be scared that _I'll _turn away. I think he really wants to open up to someone, but he never liked the idea of depending on someone.

"I spent my childhood not talking… so I fell into the habit."

Then it hits me – this whole time I've been thinking about how Eric may need somebody, how Eric may have no one to open up to and how he just wants to share his life with someone, without a second thought of what I am getting myself into. If I don't back out now, I will be forever caught in Eric's web, constantly wondering about him. But that's not something I mind, and when I truly and deeply think about it, I know that I can't stop the sparks that run through me like flames whenever we touch – be it accidental, or training. The majority of my time is spent either thinking about Dauntless, which usually leads me to think about Eric. _Everything, _leads me to think about Eric. And I know for a fact that this isn't normal what happens with instructors. Eric is special, and I don't want to stop myself from wanting to be near him.

"It would have been interesting," He starts, and I raise my eyebrow. "To see you as a child, I guess. The one who didn't speak."

I shake my head, looking to my lap. My soft brown curls fall over my face, shielding it from anything.

"I was never a child, Eric, I didn't get the chance."

I'm letting him in, telling him parts of me that I never told anyone, and never planned to tell anyone and it scares me. It scares me more than I can say, letting this man hold onto a piece of me. Honestly, I can safely say that even if I hadn't shared what I did, he would still be holding onto a piece of me. The broken part of my soul that I carried with me to Dauntless is healing, and being reformed with the presence of friends. But with Eric, I didn't realise how much of me he was taking up until now.

"I don't know how to say this," Eric begins. "But I think we're safe in saying that you're more than just an initiate."

My heart flutters. I break into a smile and look up at him. He is smiling too, and I know this short period of talking will remain in his memory.

**Please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey peeps!**

**So, new chapter! Yay! None of you have guessed correctly about what happens on visiting day, but keep trying! It's nice to know what you think will happen! Although, I must admit that one of you mentioned someone that may have something to do with it! Tbh, I think from a plot twist side it's not huge. Anna's parents aren't going to resurrect or anything. Their storyline is pretty much just being dead for the whole story. Wild, I know! But it ****_does _****include Eric. I'll give you that. Keep the ideas coming! I get inspiration from the weirdest things, like in class today I got a big idea from someone mentioning the colour red. But spoilers… I'll let you guess about the colour red too. So try your bests! **

ANNA

I sigh, leaning my back against one of the boxes. I let my hair fall forward, covering my face in a survival hiding technique that I learned long ago. It became habit, but not just because I hoped that by not seeing me properly Alexander would lay off, but also because not one person saw me, and when you're invisible, it doesn't really matter how hard you try to become visible again and you just fade away until everyone has forgotten your existence. But I know right now that there is nothing to hide from – apart from the fact that Eric now knows a piece of me, and I don't know how he's going to handle that information. However the fact remains that I don't believe that Eric would betray me. Perhaps my better judgement is being clouded, but I honestly think that although I don't trust him, I could one day.

My head falls to the side, resting on my shoulder. My eyes remain open, scanning all that I can see from this angle. The box that I lean on I suddenly realise contains knives – thin, pointy, high standard and obviously harm-inflicting type knives.

_Alexander's knife trails down my skin, and I imagine it leaving a thin, white trail in its wake. I gasp slightly as he pushes further, digging it into my skin where one of my previous cuts has just started healing. I have learned that my cries only egg him on, which I find it shameful to admit. I should not have to know what discourages people from hurting you. _

_Tears well up in my eyes but I don't let them fall. If I do he'll taunt me, both verbally and physically. But as he digs the knife in deeply I cannot refrain from letting out a small cry. He grins with triumph, knowing that he has finally hurt me. He broke me this night and I dread that it will become habit – he will hurt me enough each time until I show weakness. He feeds off my weakness._

I jerk away from the knives, crossing my legs again and sitting forward. My hair, which moved whilst I was changing position cascades forward, loose curls covering my entire face. I smile weakly as it tickles my nose, then give a small sneeze which sends hair flying everywhere. I look up, watching a smile spread across Eric's face. I haven't really seen him smile before, and it seems amazing, that something so stupid like my hair getting in the way would be what made him first properly smile on front of me.

I can only guess that what I have been through is worse than what Eric has – after all, I was lonely too. But seeing as he shows off his muscular arms every day I highly doubt the rest of him is littered with scars like my body is. Surviving in Dauntless is tough when all I can wear are clothes that cover me up fully, and I'm surprised no one has taken to calling me 'stiff' yet. Should I roll up my sleeves, or wear a top that would expose my stomach people would see, people would talk. My main purpose here was to survive – I had no other goal than getting through life, which would be an accomplishment in itself. But what I have done, all I have been through tell me that I have achieved even more than survival, which I so far have under control. I've made friends, I've progressed through my training and I've opened up a tiny bit – be it to someone trustworthy or not. The sense of a win surges through me with every conversation, every laugh that I have had with my newfound friends. They are truly good people.

My hair settles back over my face, but I begin to find it irritating so I push it behind my ear. Eric studies my actions – something I could only expect from a former Erudite, or so I believe. Nobody has actually confirmed that he is from that faction, but I think that my idea is right. I did, after all, get part Erudite on my aptitude test.

"What happens during the emotional stage?" I ask, wanting to break the silence. Eric's eyes bore into mine, a challenge for me to back down and tell him to forget it. He doesn't want to tell me, I can tell, but I'm not going to back down. I want to know exactly what sort of hell they're going to be putting me through so I can prepare for it in advance. That may give me an 'unfair advantage' but I was behind emotionally to start with.

He's debating telling me – I can see it in his eyes. They seem brighter now, less breakable than they did before. It's a better look on him, but I guess everything is just a good look on him.

_Wait, what?_

"We see inside your mind," Eric says bluntly. My eyes widen – they actually can do that?

My face flushes at the image of Eric seeing inside my mind. There isn't anything that I should shy from showing him – he fills my thoughts only as a friend. It's not like I have weird thoughts about him. However, it's the feeling of guilt you get when you hear that someone has done something wrong, which you know isn't you, but you still have a little doubt in the back of your mind that tells you it _could _have been you, and that you _could _have forgotten you did it. I know for sure that I have nothing to hide from in letting Eric into my mind. I guess I'm scared he'll find something he doesn't like, or whatever, that makes him stop wanting to be my friend.

He's the only proper friend I've had, even though I don't even know what's going on between us is friendship. It could just be Eric acknowledging the fact that I'm different, but I would like to maintain the belief that we are real friends. Even if it has just been announced. My friends that I had before my parents died – lots of them, all Amity in their own way – I don't really remember, but I know that they couldn't have been real friends. They ditched me, forgot about me, as soon as I became unhappy. Anyone, anyone at all could have saved me from Alexander and brought a little light into my life if they just paid attention.

_Alexander._

I guess I wasn't thinking straight, or was distracted by the distressing thought of Eric being able to see in my mind because I momentarily forgot that I _do _have something to hide. If Eric sees into my mind – never mind Four – he'll see the beatings, he'll see the scars and he'll know my past. He is going to see the horrors that tormented me day and night. So far all people know of me is that my name is Anna and that I come from Amity. They know my name, not what I've been through. I can't let him find out. He'll judge me. Either that or he'll tell someone. I don't believe that gossip is tame in Dauntless, therefore I can't let anyone know, or everyone will know.

I'm screwed.

"See into my mind? Like, rea my thoughts?" I ask, praying that his answer will be no, or not exactly. I pray that I have misunderstood, that there is another meaning that comes from seeing into someone's mind that preferably doesn't include seeing into someone's mind. I pray that I am wrong.

"Not exactly," He starts, and sweet relief fills my system. But sweet relief quickly turns into sheer horror as he continues. "We get to see your fears. We find out the way you operate. It won't be nice for you, obviously, but it will be interesting to see into your mind and find out what gets you going."

I feel like I have been struck physically. I take Eric's words like a slap to the cheek. The fact that he will find my mind _interesting _freaks me out, and I wonder why I even trusted this man with part of me in the first place.

"My mind is a dark place, Eric." I say. I watch as his face grows pained, and he looks down, illuminating the dark shadows under his eyes that are a clear sign of his lack of sleep. They look darker and bolder from here, especially with the hurt look on his face. He doesn't look hurt like _I _was the one who hurt him though, his face is full of regret. Like he feels sorry for me. I almost retch at the pity I feel emanating from him. His lips form a tight line, one that stretches them out completely but still doesn't cover even half the length of his face. He doesn't have a small mouth, like me, but it seems that he can only _smile _broadly. His grimaces appear like they can't even manage to take over his face. His look of unease at my words reminds me why I did trust him – seeing the broken look that resurfaces now tells me how stupid I was to even question the fact that he was in need of someone.

The conversation ends there, and for another while we sit in the quiet. I tuck my hair behind my ear, tired of constantly having to blow it out of the way of my face or casting it to the side of my head only for it to fall forward again. I groan as the movement of my arm causes my exhausted muscles to protest, and find my eyes closing slowly. I lean against the boxes again, aware of their contents but too tired to care.

_"Bitch? Is that you?" Alexander's voice form behind me makes me jump, and I fly round, dreading the anger that I will find in his eyes. Alexander stands in the living room, which I just tried to creep past, unsuccessfully, obviously, a broad smile covering his face. I feel a lump in my throat start to form, gulping at the sudden danger, tangible in the air. _

_"Why are you late?" He sneers. Normally, it would be a question. But with Alexander, everything is a command. I could choose not to answer a question, but an order is something I must follow. If I don't, pain is guaranteed._

_"I – I fell on the way back. I think I twisted my ankle," I say. My voice wavers, and smugness laces his eyes at the idea of me causing pain by myself. _

_"Then run," He says. "Run around this house ten times and we'll see how your ankle is then. You will run normally, without hobbling." _

_I search his eyes for any sign of a lie, but find nothing. _

_I startle awake, hands rushing to my face in my usual check over to see that I have not cried, or that there are no fresh scars on my face that anyone would see. After I am satisfied that no one could see anything on my face I check my arms, rolling up my sleeves and double checking every single bit of skin that is appropriate for any sign that Alexander could have got to me. Nothing is there, nothing except my old scars. I hear a gasp from beside me, and see all my new friends, along with Eric, staring at the scars that litter my skin. I turn around, a fake smile plastered on my face, but ignoring the tears prickling at the back of my eyes. I bite my lower lip, controlling myself from letting out a sob. They saw, they saw my scars and now they're going to leave me. _

_"Why did you do this?" June asks, "Why would you do such a thing to yourself?" I gape at her. She thinks I did this to myself? The idea is preposterous, a stupid thought that not even the dumbest of Amity would see as reasonable. Eric turns to her, jaw dropped. Surely he must understand that she isn't right. But understanding crosses his face a spit second later, and I feel part of me break at the idea that he would believe her over me. She stretches onto her tip-toes and whispers in his ear. His eyes grow wide. _

_"Anna," He begins. He walks towards me like he is afraid I will burst, or worried that I will attack him. He treats me like a wounded animal, and I don't want to believe that this is Eric. "We can get you help, we can send you somewhere." His light, calm tone is completely different from his usual heavy, masculine voice that I am so used to now. It sends alarm bells ringing in my mind and I shake my head wildly at him. _

_"Don't be like that," He says. It's then that I realise how he is talking to me – like I'm a child, like I don't understand what's good for me. I feel anger start to heat up in my stomach and it rises to my cheeks which flush red with rage. I will not be treated like a misunderstood, disobedient child! I stamp my foot and look him in the eye. I try to speak, but find myself unable to as something has stuck my lips together._

_"You want to talk?" Eric asks. "No wonder, you didn't want to talk in the first place, so why should you now?" My eyes widen and I feel myself flame up in anger. _

I wake up, properly this time. I take in my surroundings for a while before I realize where I am. I am with Eric, in the weapons cupboard.

My hands go to my face as I did in my dreams, but my fingers come away wet. I'm crying, on front of Eric. I feel a stone settle in my stomach and I close my eyes, praying this is another dream. Dauntless don't cry, and this is the epitome of humiliation – crying on front of a Dauntless leader. Especially one that is covering my initiation.

Thankfully for me, if Eric notices the tears he ignores them and doesn't mention them at all.

"Bad dream?" He asks. I nod.

"I'm used to it."


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey peeps! Guess what this is! You're right – a new chapter! Yay!**

**While I am still going through and re-writing chapters I found that rather boring and decided that I would start updating chapters again instead of waiting! I guess I'm real impatient.**

**This is how it will go: I'll upload a new chapter, then I'll re-write another one. It will be back and forth between each until I've re-done everything I'm not so proud of and then updating will come really regularly. This story is on the mend, and it's so nearly there.**

**Oh, and as for the OC competition, the winner is Vikihungerrgames1. This OC won't be written in for another few chapters, but I thought I might as well mention that now. Thank you all for your submissions thought! Reading them made my day!**

**This chapter picks up exactly where we left off in the last chapter, so you might want to read the end of that to catch up if you haven't already.**

**So, for the first time in a while...**

**Enjoy! I certainly did while writing it!**

ANNA

I drift into a foggy consciousness, smiling slightly when I no longer feel that I am sitting on the cold, hard ground. It's comfortable, wherever I am, and the slow rocking back and forth is like a lullaby. I am held against something warm and firm, my body enveloped in a strong sense of security and safety. I can hear breathing, but it isn't light, like mine, so I know whoever is around me isn't sleeping – or almost sleeping. Normally I know I'd be on high alert, but I feel so peaceful right now I'd rather just drift back to sleep.

So I do.

The next time I wake I am completely alone – not at all like I was earlier. The warm presence is gone and I slowly blink the sleep out of my eyes and gaze around the room. This isn't where I remember being last – namely, the weapons cupboard – nor is it the initiate dormitory. The room is dark, but the door left ajar lets a small ray of light fall across the room, letting me see just a little. It looks like what I would expect a typical Dauntless room looks like, which dark walls and minimal furniture. Unlike in Amity houses, it is very closed off from the world, with no windows visible and only the door leading to what I can presume is the rest of the apartment.

The bed I'm in is comfortable, a soft mattress with warm, clean sheets that I know is far nicer than what we sleep with in the dormitory.

But the only part that brings a soft smile to my lips is the smell that fills my senses every time I breathe in – something strong, sweet and distinctly masculine. There is a hint of something metallic, not unlike the guns we fired during training. I let out a contented sigh that I immediately regret when I realise -

Whose apartment am I in?

And how the hell did I get out the weapons cupboard?

Maybe Eric found a way out. He must have, otherwise we would still be stuck there. Maybe he managed to contact someone, though I'm not sure how I didn't wake up in the process.

If Eric was the one to get us out, and I don't yet have an apartment of my own... then I guess this must be his. My breath hitches as I come to the thought. I'm lying in a bed, in what I think is Eric's apartment.

Oh God.

If I am where I think I am, then how did I get here? I must have been unconscious so there's no way I could have gotten here myself. All I remember was the weapons cupboard, the gentle rocking sensation... then here.

_The gentle rocking sensation. Warmth. Contentedness._

Did Eric _carry _me here? Now that I realise it it seems completely logical – and I don't know how I didn't realise it before. It feels almost wrong, that he should be so gentle with me, when most of the time he's the ice cold Dauntless leader. I feel like I'm being singled out – something in my life that has never happened. I was always Anna, the quiet Amity girl that no-one knew. The only thing I was known for was the daily abuse, and that was only by Alexander.

For the first time in my life I'm known for doing something well, for achieving something nobody thought I could. And it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders – like I no longer have to be afraid at every step I take. Like I have people here who would support me now. Eric, I think, is one of those people. I want to trust him. I want to trust _them._

I'm going to have to start changing, opening up to people, letting them see the real me. I could still do this by myself, but I'm glad I've come to the realisation that I don't want to. I _want _to have people here who have my back, who I can recognise as family – and I'm lucky enough that there's people who want the same with me.

Although, if I am going to finally let myself get close to people I''l – _they'll – _have to accept that there's some parts of me that I don't want to share. I can have some secrets at least, and the ones concerning my childhood are still too fresh in my memory to relive them to other people.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and find myself still fully clothed. I'll have to change them when I get back to the dormitory and might as well take a shower at the same time. There is no way I could even ask to shower here – I don't know Eric at all, really, and it would just be awkward for me to ask to use his bathroom.

I am relieved that I am still fully dressed, although I didn't expect Eric would do anything like that, I am just glad he didn't see my scars.

At the side of the room I see a small mirror, and head over to it to quickly check my appearance. I must look a mess, and when I reach it I see that I do. My eyes look tired and still half asleep and there's dark smudges underneath them, evidence of the past nights of restlessness. My hair looks too wild to even try to tame – a mess of dark brown covers my head and falls at awkward angles, a single strand reaching down to curl just on front of my nose. There is a thin trace of drool still on my cheek and I hastily wipe it away, embarrassed although I'm the only one in the room.

I know that for Eric this mirror must show his head and chest – but for me I can only see down to my chin if I stand on my tiptoes. It really puts the height distance between Eric and me into perspective. I hadn't thought I was that small, at least, not _tiny_. I know I must be around average height for my age, maybe just a little below, but my skinny form makes me feel much smaller than I am. I guess a life of trying to make yourself as invisible as possible really takes a toll on how you see yourself.

I tug a little at my shirt, the tight-fitted Dauntless clothing making me suddenly uncomfortable as I scrutinize myself in the mirror. This is why I never looked in the mirror for too long – I always picked out every single one of my flaws and tore myself down because of them. I never thought it was in the way that some girls did it, though, not striving for perfection but instead finding some emotion that I could control, while all of the others lay in the hands of my abuser.

Tugging on my shirt reveals the tip of a long, white scar that reaches down my torso. I pull the clothing up immediately and irrationally look around to check that nobody is there to have seen it.

Turning away from the mirror walk towards the door, lightly and quietly, in the case that Eric – or whoever's apartment this is if not his – is asleep. I pull on the handle slowly, and the room I'm in is filled with a bright, artificial light. I step out and shield my eyes, which having adjusted to the dark, hurt in response. I take a sweeping gaze across the room on front of me – relatively big, open plan. It seems to be one big living room, with the kitchen and dining room attached. Two other doors are on the walls, one, wide open leading to a bathroom and the other shut. I presume this one is the front door.

My main focus lands on the figure in the middle of the room, laying on the couch. It's Eric, so I was right about this being his apartment. But if he's sleeping on the couch and there's no other rooms in sight, I must have been sleeping in his bedroom.

I can feel a heavy blush across my cheeks, my face red with embarrassment. In this situation I have no idea what to do – should I leave, and risk waking him up in the process? Or do I go back to bed – his bed – and experience through the awkwardness in the morning?

I take a few steps into the room, grateful when no floorboards creak like they would in my old Amity house. Eric looks so peaceful right now, it's almost like he's a different person. The person I was with in the weapons cupboard – fragile. He wears the same clothes he did yesterday, much like me, though he doesn't wear a jacket and I am left to appreciate the muscle mass he has. It's quite impressive, and I can see why all of Dauntless is afraid of him. I can't imagine the force behind a punch thrown by him. I don't _want _to imagine it.

I think back to what Damien said a few days ago. _Four is the only one in the Dauntless compound who isn't afraid of Eric. _What must their fight look like? I know Four won, but how bad were the injuries? I can't imagine Eric conceding easily. A pang of anger runs through me at the thought of Four beating up Eric. The fights must have been terrible.

Unable to think about that any more, I move across the room to the kitchen. On the table, I notice papers strewn across the place, not at all what I imagined Eric's work would look like. I thought it would be neat, clean cut... this isn't. Maybe the same can be said for him. Maybe everything Eric does _isn't _perfectly executed.

I pick up one of the papers at the top of the pile. It's a report, but it has browned rings on it from what must have been coffee cups. The title is partially obscured by a note scrawled out messily, Eric's handwriting, I guess, that reads _'__For the attention of Jeanine Matthews__' _Confused, I lift the note and read the full title.

I notice it isn't an actual title, in fact, it's a name.

_CAMILLE MAIER_

I frown, reading further down the page. Instantly, there's loads of information about her actions, her choice in faction and her home life. Confused, I read further. It turns out she lives in Dauntless currently, and used to be an Erudite transfer. What I don't understand why there is a file about her actions on Eric's desk, or why it is for the attention of Jeanine Matthews. Has she done something wrong?

As I skim the rest of the page, I flinch slightly as I read the words _'suspected divergent'. _Panicking, I place the paper down on the table, pushing it to the side where it came from in the hopes that Eric doesn't realise I read it. I pick up another one, finding it labelled the same, but with another persons name. Again, highlighted in bold are those two words that send me panicking. How are they identifying these people as divergents? What are they doing different?

What can I do to hide myself?

I know divergence is dangerous. I also know that transferring to Erudite would have had my secret snuffed out instantly – so there must be something going on that will effect these people. Surely Eric must know that filing a report stating that they might be divergent will be dangerous for them. He wouldn't willingly hurt his own faction members, would he?

But doubt has already rooted in my mind, and I start to wonder whether I was foolish to want to trust Eric. I feel stupid for even thinking it – just when I had been beginning to think that Eric wasn't all that bad. He's putting members of his faction in danger by labelling them as divergent. Would he do the same for me?

_Of course he would, Anna. Don't be stupid. You're nothing special._

And it's true – I'm not. If they find out about me I'll be treated like every other identified divergent. I don't know what happens to them, but I was warned. After the aptitude test, the administrator told me that divergents had a tendency to disappear. I can't let that happen to me.

Yet at the back of my mind, there is still a little hope. Eric's words from the weapons cupboard still echo around my mind, making my heart flutter just a little every time I think of them.

_I think it's safe to say you're more than just an initiate._

I am more than just an initiate. I'm a divergent initiate, and I'm making myself known to a Dauntless leader who has files being sent to Jeanine Matthews on his desk, concerning divergents.

I am more than just an initiate. I'm an initiate in trouble.

…

I sneak out of Eric's room more discreetly than I thought possible of me. It turns out it is early morning and around the pit I see a few Dauntless dotted around, lying near bars in collapsed, drunken states. I don't care much for drinkers, although I know it is something common in Dauntless. Whenever Alexander got his hands on alcohol the beatings were bad and I often found myself unable to go to school the next day. Bad memories rest with alcohol and I don't want to revisit them.

Everything is unusually quiet now, just before dawn, when most Dauntless are either passed out drunk or still in bed, sleeping. I walk with a bold, mock confident stride, extending my legs to their full length with every step. I try to appear as unshaken as I can, though the feat is hard, to say the least.

But I don't want to think about that now. I hardly want to think about anything, or even make the effort to talk. Least of all to Eric, who I now know I have a reason to fear. It would probably do me best to avoid him completely, for fear that he picks up on any signs that I may not be completely Dauntless.

I don't even feel the need to ask him about how we got out of the weapons cupboard. The thought doesn't intrigue me any more.

I just want to be alone, away from the rest of the world. Which is why when a loud voice calls out to me I get so easily angered.

I don't recognise it, and it sounds oddly slurred. A drunk, probably. Though at this time in the morning to still be intoxicated is pretty depressing. They don't know my name, obviously, and I doubt they're interested to know.

"Hey, sweetheart!" I turn around, facing whoever is calling to me. I was right, it was a drunk. He staggers over to me slowly, a horrid smile on his face and his eyes raking up and down my body perversely. I'm instantly disgusted, which only fuels the anger I already feel.

I found out my life could be in danger this morning, and probably from someone I wanted to trust. I'm so confused right now that I do not have the time, nor patience, to deal with this man right now. If you could even _call _him a man, that is.

"You look pretty riled up!" He calls, still shouting while he nears me. I can smell the liquor on him already and wrinkle my nose. "Like you could do with a good lay! I can help you wind down, sweet cheeks!"

It's like something snaps. I don't know if it's because of what I found out in Eric's apartment – that breakage of trust – or how this man so lewdly thinks he can suggest what he is to me, or whether he reminds me of the factionless, in his desolate and helpless state, or even Alexander, when he was so drunk that he thought it good to beat me senseless. Maybe it's all of them. But there's a reason, and I launch myself at the man, fists flying and connecting with his jaw, his nose, his stomach. I land a few badly practised kicks to his abdomen, but I am too pissed off to notice my bad form. He tries to fight back, but he doesn't succeed, and eventually just curls into himself as I continue my attack. All I see is red, and I'm finally letting all my anger out, onto this man, who simply made a stupid comment.

It's like with every kick, every shout, I get something off my chest. I should be doing better – I shouldn't be hurting this man. But in this instant, I find that I _don't care. _I needed some sort of release - and I guess this is it - and though it scares me how angry I feel I don't stop. Not until I notice him cowering, whimpering.

I take a step back, looking at what I have done. There's blood, some of it on the man and some of it coating my knuckles. I stare in shock, overwhelmed by the instant feeling of horror that surrounds me. Guilt rolls over me in suffocating waves and for a moment I feel like I can't breathe -

So I run.


	12. Chapter 12

**Wow! Thank you so much for all the response to the last chapter! Your kind words made my day!**

**So, dark Anna. Where's that going? It might be important... it might not. I'm glad you guys liked it though!**

**Also, I hope you guys realise this story is going on way past Anna's initiation! I kick-started some of the bigger plot in the last chapter and I'm so excited to finally be writing it! It took a while!**

**By the way – I listened to 'Human' by Christina Perri while writing this. I feel like the lyrics to the chorus suit Anna so well, also they're such great writing inspiration! There's some nice little Eric stuff in this chapter... I didn't plan it! It just happened! Some of it was so fun to write and others like I was stabbing myself repeatedly. Oh well, I guess that's fanfiction for you.**

ANNA

I stare into the abyss of the chasm, wondering what it would be like to fall down there. Would you die immediately? Or would you hit off some rocks, and bleed out, dying after days? I guess no one knows. No one has ever survived a jump into the chasm supposedly.

I take a step back from the edge, leaning my back against the wall and slowly sliding down to the ground. It seems like hours have passed – _days _even – since I ran here. I know at most it must have been half an hour since I left Eric's apartment. My head rests lightly in my hands, which prickle with cold as the heat seeps out of me and into the rocks I sit on. I don't care. I wish I couldn't feel it.

One of my fists curls into itself and I stare at it for a while, the dark blood standing out on my pale skin, illuminated white in the poor lighting. Though the blood will easily wash off, I know I will never forget the feeling of the hot, crimson fluid sticking to my knuckles. I won't forget the feeling of my arm snapping back and meeting that man's face time after time – until his eyes rolled back and he fell unconscious. I won't forget losing the feeling in my body as I raced away while I prayed that it was all a terrible nightmare.

It wasn't.

The reality of it hits me again and again and it's like I can't quite grasp it – like my brain can't begin to comprehend that I hurt someone like he hurt me.

I'm like him.

I came to Dauntless to escape him and instead I became him, hurting people in cold blood and venting my anger at an innocent.

I want to blame Eric. I want to put all of this on him, make him deal with it instead of me. I want to believe that it's all his fault – that because of his betrayal, selling out divergents to Jeanine Matthews that somehow it was always going to end up this way. That because of what he did my brash, unacceptable actions can be forgiven.

I want to blame the man I did this to. That he shouldn't have been shouting such things at me, or that he should have known I would have reacted as I did. Maybe he could have left, ran off. Instead I was the one who did.

But I know the only person here to blame here is me, and it's so _hard _to live with that. It's so hard to be strong, to not break down when every part of me is screaming to give up. I don't want to do this – I don't want to live with the guilt that surely will become a permanent weight on my shoulders. It's too much, I can't cope, and as I lift my head back to stare at the ceiling, tears streaming down my face, I finally understand why the Dauntless fight. The feeling of power I got, the rush, it's _so wrong. _I know it. But on pure adrenaline I couldn't think and my mind was centred around the fact that I was in charge, I was _finally _in charge.

And I hate it.

My ears prick at the sound of voices, footsteps, and I know it must be the start of the day. People will be waking – I'll have training. Somehow the idea of training to become a Dauntless soldier doesn't seem so appealing any more. It seems like the determination to be the best belongs to someone who isn't me, a different person. I don't know what's left of her, or where she is.

Someone is going to find a broken, bruised drunk man lying in the middle of the pit. Though by then I intend to be long gone.

I slip away, although the tears blur my vision and my feet stumble as I shake all over and I don't understand how I don't collapse... I barely make it to the dormitories before everyone wakes up and when I do I crawl to the shower, revelling in the scorching feeling cascading down my back. The water wipes away my tears.

It's not like anyone else would, anyway.

…

I sit in the cafeteria, though I can't say I'm in the mood for eating much. My body protested enough against my negligence for me to come here but I can barely stomach anything that is on my plate. June, Gabe and Damien sit around me, and I can see Adam coming through the doors of the cafeteria but I feel oddly distanced from them. I haven't spoken a word all morning, wrapped up in my guilt and my thoughts about Eric and his plans for divergents. I shoved my thoughts about the drunken man to the back of my head after almost choking on my food after thinking about him. They stayed there all morning, except for now.

Behind Adam, a hunched figure limps into the room. His face is more blue and black than the normal flesh colour and I don't need to take a proper look to know it is that man that met my fists last night.

June lets out a whistle.

"_Damn," _She says. "Someone got into a bit of a fight last night."

Gabe and Damien look up and, with their eyebrows raised, give each other pointed looks. June apparently picks up on this, and shoots them questioning looks.

"What?" She asks. When they don't answer, she grows annoyed. "_What?"_

"June, you idiot." Damien laughs. "That's your _brother."_

She stands up immediately, looking scandalised. Her eyes narrow, as if scrutinising every detail. I draw away further, my mind on lock-down and guilt racking my every nerve. What if she finds out it was me?

Her reaction surprises me. She _laughs._

"I guess it is. Huh, I thought Alec would have been better at fighting."

I suddenly can't sit here any more. Their reactions, which should comfort me, only provide opportunity for the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach to grow. I should be happy, knowing that the Dauntless will just take a good laugh about the man – Alec – being beaten. That he might be ashamed for a few days, but will eventually get over it. Instead, I find myself disgusted by the cruel nature of those around me and I stand up, pushing my breakfast tray away from me. I force out a quick explanation, _'training', _before leaving the room.

How could they care so little about someone who they care about getting hurt? Why doesn't it matter to them?

Are the Dauntless really as good as I thought they were?

I run all the way to the training room, the little food there is in my stomach jostling around and making me give way to my nausea. I am sick, in an empty Dauntless hallway, or what I thought would have been empty, until I feel the rough tug of my hair out of my face like I did when I was sick by the chasm.

"That's the second time I've done that, Anna."

Of course it's Eric – the universe wouldn't go for anything less. It seems everything wants to torture me here, and I feel like I've been put through more pain since I joined Dauntless than I had been all those years in Amity. He uses my name like it's familiar to him and I know that he wouldn't have used any other initiate's name, just mine, and for the first time I wish he would revert back to calling me 'initiate'.

I finish, wiping my mouth and staring up at him in defiance. Despite what he's doing – what I _know _he's planning, or putting people through – I find solace in the familiar steely grey eyes that easily hold my glare.

"You know, if you're going to make this a habit you might want to think of tying your hair back," He says and I almost break in the knowledge that for anyone else, Eric might have questioned their weakness. He let me in, briefly, and already I'm treated so differently. I want to ask him so much – what he's doing with divergents, why he carried me back to his apartment, _why he let me sleep in his bed._

Instead, I settle for, "How did we get out of the weapons cupboard?"

He doesn't look surprised by my question. Knowing Eric, he's probably so used to hiding emotions that having a blank face comes naturally to him.

"Some drunk came to try and get weapons for a fight. The door was unlocked," He states - and that's it. There's nothing more to it. Despite the anger that consumed me since I found out I want to prolong this conversation, make it never end. I want to keep talking to Eric despite what I know and what I did because of it though I know that I can't, that I'll have to pretend to be just as emotionless as him. I feel comforted with him there, for reasons I don't know, and talking to him just seems too _normal _for me to give it up.

I don't know what that says about me.

As I turn to leave, he grabs my arm. I turn back, my eyes wide and surprised. He looks completely different now to how he did before, like he's desperate. I'm not sure what for.

"_Anna-" _He begins, and a choked sound escapes his lips. I look down at where his hand is wrapped around my arm and he lets go, pulling his hand away quickly. He steps back, looking momentarily lost and by this point I am too enraptured with _Eric _to care about anything I've said to myself about not getting caught up with anyone and I step towards him, looking up at him.

Our gazes stay together for some time. Too long to be normal, and with anyone else it would be uncomfortable. We're so close now that I can feel the slight shift in air where our breaths mingle and I swallow the lump in my throat when I see the unguarded look in his eyes, one which clearly says _'don't leave'._

I dare another step closer and we're far too close now for just a trainer and his initiate. His lips are parted slightly, and just when I begin to lose any sane train of thoughts he breaks it.

"I saw what you did, to that Alec kid."

My breath catches and I step back, my mind suddenly swamped with what just happened. I knew there would be consequences of my actions but I didn't think they would come at such a time.

"How?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.

"I checked some of the night watches in the control room," He says. He's returned back to normal, or as normal as anyone could be, given what just happened. I'm not sure if _I'll _be normal after that again. "Anna... why?"

I hate the way he says my name. The way it rolls off his tongue, easily, flippantly. The way he could say anyone else's name. The way he could call me 'initiate'. It's not what I want – but then, I'm not sure _what _I want.

Is it him?

I don't answer the question. Instead, I turn to leave.

This time, he doesn't stop me.

…

The fights sneak up on me. After another week of training Four finally states one morning that we'll be fighting each other today.

I've improved. I know I have, although I was hesitant to even think about violence at first. My punches were purposefully weak, my kicks even worse and I didn't use my elbows or knees to my advantage at all. Until Eric shouted at me, of course, and I got my act together.

He's been acting different, a bit weird, since the encounter we had a week ago. More restricted, closed off. We haven't spoken, spare him giving me lectures about my crappy kicking technique.

But I did practice, I came back to the training room after dinner everyday. I think secretly, I hoped I'd see him there, but it seems he's been avoiding it. The table that I remember having to carry around the room every morning because of him sits in the corner now, unused, and now in hindsight I miss the opportunity to build muscle. I don't just miss that – I feel like a part of me is missing and somehow I know it can only be replenished by being near Eric.

I was the one who left, though, and I need to keep that in mind. It was my choice to go.

The scoreboard is hanging on the wall, showing who will be fighting who. There's only two fights today because of our lack of initiates, and Cain is the only one not fighting. I had thought I could rely on Eric to match me up with him, to let me try and beat him after all he's put me through but it looks like Eric had abandoned any sort of attachment he has to me, and paired me up with Kyle, Cain's lackey.

I watch as Fern and Adam circle each other on the mat. I sit on the floor at one end of the training room, far away from Cain and Kyle who also watch. Eric and Four stand close to the fighting pair and don't spare a glance sideways at me. I'm not sure if I'm grateful for it or not.

Fern begins the fight properly with a well-aimed punch to Adam's stomach. He reacts too slowly, not expecting such viciousness from someone who didn't appear like a proper contestant. He steps back, looking more determined now and goes for a kick to her chest, she darts to the side just in time.

I haven't been paying much attention to Fern at all really and I didn't notice how much she's improved. She must have been training during her spare time as well to have improved so drastically and it seems now that our initiate class doesn't have a weakest link any more. At least, until this fight is over. Whoever loses now will most likely fall into last place given who is fighting.

I turn away from the fight. I don't particularly want to watch two people that I care about fight each other until one of them is unable to fight any longer. Eric's words. Four put up a short argument that they should be able to concede, but Eric cut him off with a malicious snarl that '_Dauntless don't give up.'_

_Dauntless don't give up._

The fight ends quickly with Adam on the floor. It's a shame, but Fern deserves this. It will bring up her mark enough that, should she win again, she probably won't cut.

My name is called, and Kyle's. Cain is told to bring Adam to the infirmary and he does as he's told grudgingly.

I pad up to the mat, cracking my knuckles and mentally preparing myself for this. Will I cope, afterwards? Or will I feel the guilt like I did with June's brother?

Kyle isn't drunk and defenceless. There's no telling how this will go.

There's a punch thrown to my my side and I block, quickly, then seeing an opportunity where his fist retracts slowly kick him hard in the side. It is well-balanced and timed and I should feel pride because of it but instead I feel empty, my mind focussed only on how to win and how to identify his flaws and weaknesses should I have to fight him again.

I drop to my knees and straddle him as he is down, natural instinct making up for all the moves I don't know and I begin to throw punches towards his face. I try to keep my emotions out of this, not letting myself experience anger or remorse or guilt or anything else that would ruin my chances of securing a place here.

But then I remember.

I remember the way my fists collided with Alec's face, again and again until blood was gushing out of his nose and his eyes were swollen shut and his lips were bleeding.

And I stall.

I can't do this – this is too brutal.

In the time that I retreat, letting Kyle get up, he swings a punch my way and hits my eye. I stumble backwards, my arms out beside my in a desperate attempt to stay balanced. I deflect another punch and throw one back, watching as he grimaces in pain.

I can't draw this out. I have to end this now.

While he's swaying from my last his I send a jab to his temple and he crumples to the floor, out immediately. It's a small mercy, doing little to wash away my guilt but's it's still something.

I leave the mat quickly and head out the room.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello everybody! New chapter!**

**I have so much school work right now so I'm sorry it took me a bit longer than usual to update, but I'm actually surprised that I managed to fit this in. I'm taking advanced psychology, physics, chemistry and biology along with Spanish and my teachers just love to pile work on us. Screw them. At least I have a week off starting tomorrow afternoon – so lots of updates!**

**Side note – would anybody be interested in reading a The Mortal Instruments fic that I plan on writing? It would probably be a high school AU, I'm thinking. I just finished COHF and don't want to part from my darling Jace just yet.**

**Anyway, just leave a review if you would be and enjoy the chapter!**

ANNA

A strong force connects directly with my jaw. Taking a step back in dizziness, I try to steady myself but before I can another hit comes, this time to my eye. I groan in pain. I'm losing, I know it.

I could win if I really wanted. If I let go, like I did with June's brother and Kyle, I know there is nothing that would stop the torrent of fists I would send flying, the kicks and the jabs that would knock my opponent off their feet. But I don't want to do that. Not now – this time I want to keep a level head, take it critically and allow myself to get better without giving in to my anger.

Four and Eric watch, I can feel their disappointed gazes following me every time I get thrown back. I don't care – this isn't about them. This is about me, and my determination not to lose, even though right now that determination is fast fading.

Fern lunges into another punch, this one aimed at my stomach. This time I don't let her land it, and I dodge out to the side and she falls forward, stumbling to catch herself. In those few seconds I aim a calculated side-kick to her hip, where I know it won't do her any damage other than to push her off her feat. It has the desired effect and within a moment she is on the ground, arms splayed out on front of her and face into the mat.

She rolls over, looking up at me and tries to kick my feet from underneath me from where she is. In a split second, I jump up and land right on front of her, falling to my knees and straddling her. It seems that this is my easiest knock-out position, to have them completely under me and at my mercy. I wonder what that says about me.

Every time I try to hit her in the temple she flings her head to the side. I growl under my breath, wanting this to be over without me having to beat her to a bloody pulp. This is Fern after all, the seemingly harmless little Candor girl. I honestly didn't expect her to put up this much of a fight.

I never wanted to fight Fern. In fact, I choked on the breakfast muffin I had brought to the training room this morning when I saw who I paired up against. Honestly, I had thought that if I knocked her out in the first few seconds that I could get this over with. It was stupid of me, really, to underestimate her even when I knew what the consequences could be. Immediately she had tackled me, sending punches here and there. It was crazy and I know I wasn't the only one who didn't expect it. I just hope that her capability to handle herself puts her up a few points in the scoreboard.

Fern and I make eye contact and I can see the fighting flame burning bright in her eyes. She doesn't want to lose this – she's not ready to give in any time soon. But this fight has been going on for ages and we're both covered in bruises. I'm exhausted, ready to collapse into my bed without even bothering to take a shower.

I can feel my eye starting to swell, already my vision in the one she hit is far narrower than the other. It's uncomfortable and dizzying, and it aches constantly, but I try my best to ignore it.

Giving up on throwing punches at her, I try another strategy. As one arm aims a fake hit to the side of her head, the over comes up to her throat and pushes in. Her eyes flare wide in alarm and I press harder, willing for her to just black out for it to be over. Her eyes read of betrayal and I can only hope that she won't hold this against me. I'm fighting dirty – I know it. I just want it to be over.

Nearly a minute passes and she's out like a light. I climb off her and move my ear to her slightly open mouth to see if I can hear her breathing, then let out a relieved sigh when I hear the rhythmic, if slightly wheezing, sound of her breaths.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Eric wave to another initiate – Kyle, I think, he's sitting out today because of the odd numbers – to go and get Fern to the infirmary. I make my way down to where Adam and Cain are sitting, ready to begin their fight.

Four calls them up and explains the rules, like he does with every fight. Eric made him do it, I remember, seeing them talking before my last fight. I think it's only because Four opposes Eric's point of view over whether you should be allowed to concede – so Eric likes to rub it in that he is in charge, that he makes the rules and that there's nothing Four can do about it. It's a little sadistic, but I guess that easily sums up Eric.

Although, when I think of Eric, I don't think of an ice-cold Dauntless leader any more. I did to begin with – I saw him as a rival, a potential threat to my security here in Dauntless. Now that I've seen so much more of him, the vulnerable and dare I say gentle sides of him that he only just let me see. Or maybe he didn't, maybe it was an accident that I saw more in him than anyone else.

The fight begins, but a minute or so into it I feel a presence behind me and the familiar masculine smell envelops me. My breath catches and the hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand as I realise that it is Eric.

How did I miss him coming over here? Was I so caught up in my thoughts?

It's just him and me, I realise. Adam and Cain are on the mat, Four is studying their fight and Fern and Kyle are away to the infirmary. It's just us. We're alone.

"That was a good fight, Anna," He says. "Is your eye okay?"

_Anna._

I'll never get used to the sound of him speaking my name.

I turn to look at him, daring to meet his stare. He certainly doesn't look cold and unfeeling now, when we're so close together. Without thinking, I nod, too focussed on being near him to actually process what is going on,

"That was a pretty smart move, cutting off her air supply. Why did you do that?"

I can't tell if he's complimenting me, or if he's trying to scope for information. For all I know, he could already suspect that I am divergent. From what the files on his desk read, he's a threat to my safety if he knows.

I don't want him to feel like a threat.

In this moment I feel so scrutinised – like anything I say could be entirely the wrong thing. That by the slip of one word or even taking too long a pause he could tell what I am. What makes me different.

"I was getting tired," I say, calm though my heart feels like it's about to break through my ribs it's beating so hard. "And it was clear she was just going to keep avoiding every punch I threw."

I can practically see the cogs turning in his head, calculating, analysing. He must be an Erudite – it only makes sense. I always thought that Erudite would make the cruellest Dauntless, their cold and cutting nature mixed with the violence and brutishness of Dauntless makes for a ruthless combination. And although I can see why it would seem that Eric is a prime example of such a combo I want to see more of him than that: more than I already have.

"Smart," He comments. "You should probably put some ice on your eye."

By now we're whispering, speaking in hushed voices that feel so much more intimate than any normal conversation would and I find myself shocked when I realise that I don't mind. I _like _being this close to Eric, being near him like this. It feels safe, I guess. Dauntless is so wild and free and I get so caught up in it sometimes that I need a break, a pause, something that breathes air into my lungs. And I'm starting to find that whenever I need that Eric is there to provide it. He's keeping me down on this earth, and I'm sure without him here my head would be reeling.

I almost don't respond, contented where I am, but I catch myself, knowing that Eric will be expecting an answer.

"Yeah, but I don't know where I could get some other than the infirmary and I don't want to bother them about something like this. Besides, I can't just waltz out of training whenever I like. I am an initiate, still."

"That didn't stop you a few days ago, after your last fight," He says, then pauses as if thinking. "I could get you some ice. I'm sure Four has training under wraps."

My cheeks heat up and I duck my head slightly, my hair falling on front of my face. I don't want him to see the effect he has on me. I didn't think such a casual offer could make me react like this but with Eric I suppose everything comes without me expecting it.

"That would be great, thanks," I whisper. My eyes, from where they stare at the floor catch his feet turning to move and I hear him grunt as he leaves. Eric is getting me ice for my injury – Eric, who threatened to hang me over the chasm on one of my first nights here, Eric who taunted me for choosing not to speak. It seems almost unreal.

I look up in time to see his back as he leaves the room, in time to see the nod he gives to Four and in time to see how he looks back at me before disappearing around the corner.

…

I sit by Fern's bedside in the infirmary, watching her as she sleeps and waiting for her to wake up. I want to apologise for fighting like I did, cutting off her air supply like that. I know I would have been panicking – injuries can be healed easily, but when you suddenly can't breathe and the whole world is going dark it's a completely different matter. It's scary as hell.

I would know.

I hold the ice pack to my face that Eric got me earlier. He didn't come back until the end of training, and I had begun to think he wasn't going to turn up. But, at the last minute he slipped into the room and handed me the cool pack.

My face definitely hurts a lot less now and I can feel that the swelling has gone down. After Four dismissed up I came straight here, ignoring my grumbling stomach intent of making sure Fern was okay. I was determined to make this the first real conversation that we would have and to ask for forgiveness for fighting dirty. I can tell that Fern is a person I can trust – after all, the first person who shows real kindness to you after a lifetime of abuse can leave a real big impression.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice her beginning to stir and I sit up a bit straighter as she opens her eyes.

"Anna?" She asks sleepily. "Were you watching me sleep?"

I laugh lightly, amazed by the feeling of it. I'm still not used to it, laughing among friends, but it's something that I want to hold onto. It's a good memory.

"Not really, I just got here," I say. "And I wanted to apologise, for what I did during the fight."

She nods, her eyes still hazy with tiredness.

"S'ok," she murmurs. "I don't really mind. But thank you for saying sorry."

I smile at her, a wide, genuine smile and she returns it. Right then I know that I've made a friend in Fern. I can trust her like I can trust Adam, June, Damien and Gabe. Like I want to trust Eric.

"For what it's worth," I whisper, as she drifts back to sleep, "I only did it because I didn't want to hurt you any more."

…

A crowd has gathered by the chasm, and from the mood that seems to be almost tangible I can tell it's not something good.

Close by, I can see Adam waiting by a group of Dauntless borns. They're talking in hushed voices, like they're sharing a secret. I wander over to them, sending wary glances to the surrounding Dauntless members around me.

"What's going on?" I ask when I get there. Adam turns to me and grimaces, while the other initiates fall silent upon my arrival.

"Someone jumped," He says.

_Jumped? As in, into the chasm?_

From the look in his eyes, I'm right.

I look past them towards the gaping crack in the ground that I've come to know as a safe place, where some Dauntless members stoically stand around the team that are hauling something – _someone – _out the chasm and the others that turn and cry into someone else. I can only guess that they're family, or friends of whoever jumped.

For a second I am hit with a wave of jealously for whoever died. People have noticed their death, people are crying over it. They _care. _I know that if I had died, if I had committed suicide in some way back in Amity that no one, _no one _would have cared. They would have probably seen it as a good thing, that they got rid of something who wasn't Amity enough for them. And Alexander – I'm not sure whether he would be gleeful or enraged. I can't even begin to think about what would have happened if I _had _died – would he have found someone else to be his personal punching bag? I hope not.

Mentally, I scold myself. Someone has died, and I'm over here feeling jealous. I should be grateful that I have a new, safe home with friends that care about me. I should be repressing my feelings in order to help those who are suffering from real loss.

I stumble forward to the edge, desperate to catch a glimpse of who jumped. Had I seen them in passing before? Did I know them by face, but not by name?

The body is pulled over the edge and it's a grotesque sight. The skin is torn all over by the rocks of the chasm and the pink, fleshy colour that people normally have has been drained, leaving a sickly white. Black clothes have been pulled away and ripped, covering only half of the woman's body. My eyes drift up to her face, noticing her mottled blue lips, tangled and bloodied hair, wide, dark and dead eyes.

I've seen her before, but I can't place where.

It's only when I hear someone behind me whisper _"Oh, god, Camille," _That I realise who I'm seeing:

Camille Maier, the woman whose file was for the attention of Jeanine Matthews.

The woman whose file had 'suspected divergent' printed on it.

The woman whose file lay on Eric's desk.


	14. Chapter 14

**What's this? Two chapters in two days? Whoa!**

**So what's going with Camille huh? Did she really jump? Oh dear, we're getting dramatic aren't we? Some more drama in this chapter... and I'm debating whether to do visiting day as the next chapter or the one after... hmm, choices. I guess you'll just have to wait and see! Although you can be sure of one thing – this is where the _real _pain begins.**

**We're on 99 favourites. Let's make that a lovely whole number, yes? Also, thank you guys so much for 166 follows! We're only fourteen chapters in and I didn't expect to be doing so well! Thank you all!**

ANNA

I turn and run, flinging my arms out on front of me as I push past all the people in my way. I can hear Adam calling out my name, and light footsteps as he runs after me but after a while they stop and I know he's given up.

Tears escape my eyes and fly down my cheeks as I force my feet one after the other along the dark Dauntless corridors. My fists, curled into balls swing by my sides, not sure whether to punch something or to tear my own hair out.

I feel so betrayed – and what I hate most is that I don't know why. I shouldn't be feeling this way, I knew something bad was coming when I saw the file on Eric's desk. I guess my brain was just trying to deny that he would do something like this, after I'm trying so hard to trust him. This knocked this back so far and _how can I trust someone that I suspect killed someone?_

Camille can't have just jumped. I've heard people talk, I know that it happens rarely and if it does it's usually older people who do it, instead of facing life as factionless. And I know that divergence is dangerous – that it could get me killed. It seems like too much of a coincidence that there should be a file sent to Jeanine Matthews, someone who is a known threat to divergents, and that the person who the file was for should die only a week or so later. The file was on Eric's desk. He knew the threat, he did it anyway.

A little thought worms its way into my mind and when I realise how true it is I feel sick. Eric wouldn't care about me at all, would hate me probably if he knew I was divergent. We're getting to know each other, there's something growing between us and I know it would be killed if he were to find out. Or, there's always the possibility that the only reason that something _is _developing between us is because he already suspects my divergence, and is using my hormones against me. It seems like something an Erudite would do.

I can see it now – how stupid I was to think that anything could be happening. I'm not even sure _what _I was thinking. Maybe I was hoping for friendship... maybe something more. The mere thought of it makes everything so much worse.

Amidst my pain, I vaguely recognise a figure on front of me that I'll run into if I don't stop. I drag my feet along the ground to stop myself from propelling any further forward and I stumble the last few steps until I have stopped right on front of them. I hate for anyone to see me this way – any Dauntless member could just assume that I'm some stupid initiate who lost their fight and laugh about me to their friends, make a mockery of the silly little Amity girl who wanted a place in the big, bad world.

But when I do look up into the steely grey orbs that search my own eyes for answers I lose the ability to speak.

I can imagine what I must look like – dark, usually messy anyway hair all over the place and tangled from running, one of my eyes already black from my fight and tears covering my cheeks. I feel frantic, and I guess I look that way from the concerned look in his eyes.

Why do I keep letting him get to me?

It's my own stupid fault for getting so caught up with him. I've strung myself into a web of hurt, lies and fear so tightly that I can't escape. I can't get away from Eric because I can't stay away from him. I don't want to. And it will be the end of me, if I don't stop it.

I don't think I can,

"Anna?" He asks, and I detest how worried he sounds. It's as if he cares about me, but I know that if he knew my secret he'd be speaking my name with contempt, not concern.

In a flurry of motions I manage to push past him, ignoring his shout of surprise and the feeling of his eyes staring into the back of my head. He wouldn't realise, that I know what I know. He'd suspect nothing. Of course.

Sometimes I wish he knew that I found out about what he did. So that he could give me excuses, lie to me in such a way that I would believe him – believe that everything's okay. Not that he would – he obviously doesn't care about me in that way that he'd feel the need to comfort me like that. Not like I care about him.

And I do – I realise it now when I feel the most pain, how much I care about him. It's too much for someone I haven't known for that long and it scares me, but I know nothing can come of it because he's _Eric, _the ice-cold, tough-talking Dauntless leader. He hates people like me. I have no chance, even without him knowing my little secret that would make him hate me more.

I don't want to have to deal with this.

I came to Dauntless to get away from pain, didn't I?

…

A few days pass as Dauntless holds a funeral for Camille. An Erudite girl is there, one who looks a little older than I am but looks shockingly like Camille. I can only guess she's her sister.

I can't shake the feeling that there's something weird going on – not because of what happened with Eric and Camille, I already know roughly, or can guess, what happened there. But Camille's sister... there's something different about her. The exchange that went on with us during the funeral is too weird to be forgotten about.

_I sit at the side of the cafeteria, away from all the noise where the Dauntless get drunk together to celebrate the life of Camille. The Erudite girl sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of it, refusing any drink offered to her, her eyes puffy and red from where she's been crying._

_I'm surprised that the Dauntless actually allow the Erudite girl to join the funeral, after all the factions are so independent these days that they refrain from mixing as much as possible. But I guess that seeing as the leaders are getting into something with Jeanine about divergents that some special allowances have been made._

_As I watch what's happening, I catch the eye of the Erudite girl._

_She's too pretty. So well kept as well, dark ginger hair swept back into an elegant ponytail, not a stray hair in sight. Her face is pointed a little but more on the rounded side, her body hinting at curves that show her easy and less energetic life over in Erudite. Her make up is on point, her skin flawless and dark eyes drawing the attention of most Dauntless males. She seems like she fits in almost _too _well. It seems off._

_She catches me staring, and suddenly her eyes are wide and she's staring back. But even from a distance, I can see the recognition on her face. I haven't ever seen her before, I would remember, so I wonder where she knows me from._

_Without taking her eyes off me she slips away from the crowd that are now too drunk to notice her departure and starts walking towards me. Frowning, I follow her movements until she reaches me._

"_You're Anna, aren't you?" She says. Her voice is smooth like honey and with no accent that I've heard from an Erudite before. "Listen, I-"_

_She's cut off by a Dauntless man shouting "Oi! Nose!" And lumbering over to us. She shoots me a look of regret and I'm hit with a wave of confusion. I make a grab for her wrist to pull her back and demand that she explains how she knows who I am, but she's already turned away toward the drunk man._

_I purse my lips and watch, wondering exactly what she had to say to me and why she knew my name._

There's no doubt she knew who I was – and the idea that she's an Erudite who knows about me personally scares the hell out of me. It makes me think that they already know, that they already suspect that I'm divergent. And if that's the case, then I'm so screwed.

But it's not just that. The Erudite girl seemed different – like she fit in too well, was doing exactly the right thing at exactly the right time, without hesitation or mistakes. It's suspicious, to say the least. She doesn't suit her Erudite blue either, not like most Erudite, who wear their blue clothes with a pride that's almost insufferable. No, she seems like she doesn't belong in them, not like she should for someone who is an Erudite.

Or maybe I'm over thinking it. Maybe she's just a normal Erudite girl, attending the funeral of her sister, who just happened to hear about the first jumper. Maybe she knows me because I'm the Amity girl who transferred to Dauntless – there's endless possibilities as to how she knows who I am.

But for some reason, none of them seem to fit with my suspicions.

…

I can't focus.

There's so much going on right now, with Erudite and divergents and _Eric, _and I just can't think. I need to be on my game right now, this is my last and most difficult fight and I need to win it. I need to prove myself, again and again until I'm certain that I am worthy of my place in Dauntless. Until there is no doubt as to what is going on in the world around me. I feel that if I win this fight it will all be fixed – although right now it's probably the least of my troubles.

There's so much going around my mind and it's clouding my concentration, not allowing me to do what I need to. I'm trying my best to stay on guard, but as Cain and I circle each other on the mat I can feel the confidence leak out of me into the cool Dauntless air. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up and I can feel the goosebumps littering my arms under the long sleeved shirt I wear. It's too cold to be wearing a t-shirt, although I doubt Cain cares about that. It looks like he wants to show off his newly-built muscles, so he's wearing a sleeveless tank. Even if it weren't cold I know I wouldn't be able to wear something like that, the scars that wrap their ways around my arms would cause too many questions.

Because of everything that's going on in Dauntless right now I'm beginning to forget about everything that happened to me in Amity. I haven't thought about it for a while now, and the nightmares that used to plague me nightly have diminished. Dauntless is good for me – it's providing a necessary distraction from the pain of my past life.

But is distracting pain with more pain a good thing? My life in Amity was physically torturous, but with what's going on here right now my mind is constantly occupied with unwelcome thoughts, fears, and worries.

Cain jumps forward and I startle back, surprised at his sudden movements. But all he does is grin, then step back to where he was before. He's taunting me, he knows my head isn't in the game and he's using it against me. His leering smile is infuriating.

The next time he tries to tease me I'm prepared, and I dart to the side quickly and kick him in the side before he realises. If he's going to be cocky, it's going to hurt him. He thinks he's so invincible – and he doesn't expect he'll be hurt.

We're the best two in this class. Neither of us have lost a fight yet and whoever wins this fight will probably dictate who leads in the rankings. He is positive it's going to be him.

He's probably right.

I'm so out of it right now, my mind consumed with thoughts about everything even when I do get a moment of clarity and make an advance, my advantage is thrown by how quickly my thoughts return to bug me. If I keep going like this I'm going to lose quickly.

Cain is no longer playful. Now that he's taken a hit, he's about to take this fight head-on, give it all he's got. I can see it in his eyes, the fury that builds us because I managed to get on kick in when he wasn't expecting it. I made a fool of him, and now I'm going to pay for it.

He makes a proper move this time, barrelling forward and knocking me to the ground. It's usually my move, be on top of my opponent, then take them out. What's so brilliant about it is that it's incredibly difficult to get out of and I usually use that to my advantage in a fight – but this time it's him on top, grinning maliciously from ear to ear and bring his fists down to my face. I try my best to dodge the blows, but they keep coming and suddenly I'm panicking. This is Cain, and I have no idea what lengths he's willing to go to to secure his place here.

I manage to knee him the groin quickly from where he hovers above me, and as he's taken to surprise and rolls off me I get up again, kicking him in the stomach and dropping to my knees to that I can punch him. But this time, he grabs my hair and yanks me down to the ground and I let out a cry as I go down.

He holds onto my hair in his fist, not letting me move my head to the side every time I try to avoid his hits. With a sickening crack I feel my nose break and I can feel blood streaming out of it. I let out another cry, but it only seems to egg him on. I struggle as much as I can to get out of his hold but it's no use – he's not stopping. Right now all I want to do is give in, go unconscious, forget about everything that's happening. To just succumb to the darkness, have a moments peace from my thoughts and the world around me seems so welcoming right now. But my pain endurance is high, thanks to Alexander, and I'm still holding out.

He pulls my head to the side again, to that I'm looking at him. But if I look past him, I can see Eric. He's watching intently, anger written all over his features. Except his eyes – his eyes are soft when they meet mine. He knows this is his fault – he made the the rule of no conceding mandatory. This could have been avoided. He knows it. He must do.

I tear my gaze away from him and look back to Cain, not letting my fear show. He's standing now and holding me in a kneeling position, my hair still wrapped in his fist. I'm being held in the most submissive position ever and I hate every minute of it.

With one last grin, he brings his fist down to my face and everything is suddenly black.

…

I drift in and out of consciousness and I can hear a steady beeping echoing through the room. I can guess I'm in the infirmary – the state of my injuries after my fight with Cain probably being severe enough. I remember my nose breaking, so I try to scrunch it. Immediately pain shoots through my entire face and I groan. This is exactly like what happened after every beating with Alexander – every movement hurt, and I eventually became so fed up with it that I just let it happen.

My eyes flutter open, although I can feel that they are swollen already. Through my small gap of vision I can see Eric's figure slumped over in the chair next to my bed. I smile slightly. Does he actually care? Would he be here if he didn't?

I try to sit up a bit, but let out a yelp at the pain that races through my muscles. Eric stirs, opening his eyes and locking his gaze with mine.

"I was trying to sit up," I say, sheepish for no reason.

Nodding, he stretches out, his muscles flexing with every motion.

"Do you need help?" He asks. His voice is low and rough from sleep, his usually well-kept hair messed up. I'm struck with how much younger he looks right now. I remember how he is only one year older than I am, and while he looks land acts like an adult already I need to remind myself that he's only seventeen. Except, when I imagine a seventeen year old, I think of a tall, lanky boy. But that's not Eric – Eric has a muscular build, and he looks twenty, not seventeen. He looks so much more mature than the seventeen year olds I knew at Amity.

I try to shake my head, determined to do this by myself and not let him see how weak I am right now. I try to move again, slower this time but barely manage to hide a grimace at the pain I feel.

He's by my side in an instant.

"You need help," He states. "Let me help you."

I nod this time, trying to brace myself for the pain that comes – but there's nothing that could prepare me for the feeling of his hands on me. I expected him to be rough, to help me sit up and then to go back to where he sat, or leave, even. But he's so much more gentle than I expected, one of his hands placed on my back and guiding me up. His other is on my arm, his one hand large enough to wrap around it completely. I miss the contact when he lets go.

He clears his throat. "The rankings were posted."

My eyes shoot wide open.

"Where did I place?" I ask hurriedly. My thoughts, that were so consumed by Eric and Erudite and Divergents didn't being to wonder what losing that fight could have done to my ranking.

"You came second. After Cain." He spits the name. I'm reminded of the Eric that I met when I first came here, the brutish man that was the feared Dauntless leader. To me, he isn't. But to everyone else, he still is. He's still the most feared man in Dauntless, and his mere presence in a room is enough to make it go quiet. He could easily scare anyone away by saying their name like he just said Cain's.

"Oh," I say. "Good."

"It's visiting day tomorrow," He says. "Are you expecting family?"

Of course. Visiting day, how could I forget. There won't be anyone here for me, I know it. But I don't care – it's better that way anyway.

"No," I say, "No I'm not."

**Please review.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey guys... extra long A/N today, one that I would advise you read because it contains some important stuff about the chapter.**

**So firstly, I am so sorry for the delay in updates. I feel awful for not posting a new chapter sooner, but the amount of school work I've been laden with is ridiculous. Currently, I have an essay due for next week, two physics tests and two maths tests, but I'm putting them off right now because I need to get some writing done. It looks like I'll be spending lunchtimes in the library again. Yay.**

**Moving on, plot stuff. So it's visiting day! Finally! So, I did promise I had something extra special planned... something that not even my friend, who's reading this, knows about (and I tell her everything about this fic). This chapter is going to be from Eric's point of view, and written in third person (because I feel that's easier than writing Eric in first person). This chapter isn't going to have anything extra important in terms of the overall, _divergent-is-dangerous_, plot, but will be more focussing on the Eric/Anna relationship. I hope you don't mind that it's written in third person... but if you do, sorry.**

**Also, I have no idea where you guys are with the romance-y stuff right now. Are you guys liking the pace? Is it going too fast? Too slow? Am I writing Eric right? I have so many questions. Please let me know.**

**So yeah, this is where I avoid my studies and procrastinate via OTP. Oh well. Please let me know if you enjoyed this or not – it'll give me a heads up as to whether you want more Eric POV or if I should just stick to Anna.**

ERIC

He left the hospital room shortly after speaking to Anna, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward than it already was. He cursed himself silently as he walked for letting himself get so close to her. Why the hell did he offer to help her sit up? He was Eric, for God's sake, he didn't just offer help to people. He should have let her get on with it herself. He wasn't gentle. This wasn't him.

Her eyes still haunted him, the ones that locked with his gaze during her fight with Cain. The way they sought him out, just before she was knocked unconscious, just made it clearer that she blamed him for what was happening. He could have stopped it, could have prevented her further harm, by not insisting that it was always a fight until someone couldn't continue. But somehow, he knew, that even if the opportunity to concede was there, she wouldn't have taken that route. She was too proud for something like that.

He cringed every time he remembered how Cain had hit her – _Cain. _He _hated _that name. He hated that he hated it, and he just wished that everything could go back to how it was before she came to Dauntless. Everyone was scared of him then. They'd avoid speaking to him, if they could. He would walk down the hall and they would avert their eyes. That was the kind of respect he had then. It felt now as if she'd trampled that into the mud.

She wasn't afraid to hold his gaze, nor to talk back to him. It was ridiculous that someone like her could get under his skin. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to hate a lot of things recently. He couldn't.

He stopped as a doctor passed on front of him. He was almost out of the infirmary, but he could still see her room from here. He could still see her, through the window where the nurses hadn't been bothered to pull the curtains. His anger at himself immediately faded as he saw her broken figure.

Her long brown hair fell down on front of her face, covering half of the pale skin that held a permanent pink tinge on her cheeks. But her features had been treated like a canvas by Cain, and now one of her eyes was surrounded by a dark, mottled blue, and there was a slight kink in her nose where it had been broken and set again. Her bottom lip was split, but they were still full and red, like always.

_God, _he wanted to kiss them.

His eyes followed her features down past her neck, watching as her already obvious collar bones became more prominent with each intake of breath. He saw where her torso disappeared under the blanket and where her hair fell in pools on the crisp, white sheets. She was wringing her hands as if she were tense, or worried. That always seemed to be the case with her and he wondered why.

He knew she was beautiful, so did every other male in Dauntless. He didn't even pretend not to be angered by their lingering stares and crude actions every time she passed by. Of course, she was still oblivious to them. He wanted to be able to threaten every man who looked at her the wrong way, to be able to seriously hurt them and know he had a reason for it afterwards. But he couldn't. She wasn't his – and he didn't even know if he wanted her to be.

But her beauty wasn't all there was to her – not at all.

He knew that within a second, she could go from looking shy and reserved to dark, dangerous and vicious. He had seen it himself – when they first started knife training and she carved up the target like it was just a piece of meat. She looked quiet and thoughtful, but he knew her enough to realise that there was a reason behind that. There was a reason as to why she didn't act the way all Amity did. He just didn't know it yet.

That reason had to be the very same reason for the dull glaze in her eyes. He wasn't foolish enough to miss it, or to assume that it was just tiredness. They missed the sparkle that someone like her should have – the shine that should light up her green eyes like the sun on a field of grass.

At first he had thought the dull look to be emotionless, but he had soon overlooked that mistake. After speaking to her, leaning more about her, he knew different.

_'I was never a child, Eric, I didn't get the chance.'_

_'My mind is a dark place, Eric,'_

No, it definitely wasn't an emotionless look. It was one of pain. In a heartbeat she could make the tables turn, hurt him in ways he didn't even know he could be hurt. He couldn't get too close to her. He had spent years building his reputation and he wasn't about to let it crumble all because of one girl. Someone like her was someone to be feared. He should leave her alone.

He left the infirmary without any further thought of her.

…

Despite the usual loud recklessness that radiated from there, the pit grew unusually quiet as people began to notice Eric walking through. He looked even more menacing than usual, his blank look replaced by one far colder. The familiar sound of his sturdy leather boots hitting the ground seemed to draw the attention of everyone, who turned to look in his direction. It was late evening now, and the majority of party-goers had already been getting into brawls, or ready to stumble home with whoever else was drunk enough to sleep with them. Eric's face broke into a sadistic grin as he noticed the change in atmosphere upon his entry.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed some of the Dauntless borns that Anna had started sitting with. His face fell from its grin into a scowl.

_Damned initiates, thinking they can get drunk when they aren't even members yet._

He cracked his knuckles before walking over to them. People stepped out of his way as he went, going out of their way to avoid him. It wasn't anything he wasn't used to.

"Initiates," He growled. Immediately, all traces of laughter drained from the scene and the three Dauntless borns turned to look at one of their leaders. "Visiting day is tomorrow. You were not given permission to get drunk."

They looked guilty, which was something. Eric couldn't stand the defiant initiates who thought they knew everything already.

The girl, whose brother he knew, spoke up first.

"We all won our fights today," She said boldly. "We thought we'd celebrate." She looked like a true Dauntless already – with her hair dyed purple and countless piercings, Eric wasn't surprised that she would be the spokesperson for the group. She was undoubtedly brave, but held a kind look in her eyes. He could see why Anna made friends with her.

He lifted an eyebrow in mock interest.

"And what of your friend?" He asked. He knew he would curse himself later for bringing this back to _her. "_She's in the infirmary and you're getting drunk."

Immediately the guilty looks were back. The girl even looked at the floor.

"You mean Anna?" One of the boys asked. Eric recognised him as Damien – the one that always made her laugh. He decided that he did _not _like Damien. "Is she okay? We didn't know what happened with her fight."

"I'm sure she'll tell you if you actually visit her," Eric said coldly. "I advise you leave before I consider the options for your punishments for partying."

They left quickly. He could hear them whispering curiously about him, about Anna.

Turning, he decided that he'd had enough for one night. He had every plan to drink enough to forget everything about her. From the way she smiled, to the way other guys made her laugh, to the dull look of hurt in her eyes, to the way that he struggled to control himself every time he was around her – to the way that all he wanted to do now was to kill anyone who everyone who had ever laid a finger on her.

But he didn't want to forget her. Now seething at his indecision, he stomped off to his own room. Maybe working on the cases Jeanine had supplied him with would help get his mind out of this stupidly sappy state.

…

Eric had every intention of stopping by at the transfer dormitory on the way back to his apartment. Of course, he'd have to double back past the infirmary but that didn't matter as long as he didn't go in and see her. He had to let the other transfers know that it was visiting day tomorrow, if they didn't know already. He at least had to remind them of the motto 'faction before blood' when seeing their families, although he doubted that they'd remember in when caught up in their own excitement.

However, his plans were stopped when he saw four initiates slowly making their way along the corridor on front of him. He stopped, narrowing his eyes to see more clearly through the dark. It was the Dauntless borns, and Anna. They were helping her walk in the direction of the initiate dormitory. It was safe to assume that she didn't want to spend any more time in the hospital beds, understandably.

But this threw a catch in Eric's plan. He suddenly decided that he was far too tired to speak to the transfers. They probably already knew, anyway.

…

The next day, Eric didn't bother to tell the initiates either. Instead, he went straight to breakfast, where he sat at his own table. He ate in silence and was grateful that no one disturbed him. He didn't want to put up with anyone right now, least of all any initiates.

But then he heard that voice, that disgusting, _stupid _voice that he knew belonged to Cain. He was laughing, which was never a good sign, about something that he apparently thought was hilarious. Eric was about to ignore it and continue eating, when he heard him snort something about _'that Amity girl.'_

Immediately, he was paying attention and his ears tuned in to everything they were saying. What about Anna? What had he done to her? Every inch of him was screaming for him to go up and throttle Cain and make him tell him everything. He had to make sure she was okay – if something had happened to her-

"I think she must have had a nightmare or something, but _you should have seen her face. _It was ridiculous! I don't know how someone like her was even allowed to take _part _in initiation!" Cain laughed loudly, to his friend, who obviously hadn't been there. He laughed along, lapping up all the details that he was provided with. It made Eric sick.

"Anyway, she woke up and _started crying. _It was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen. She's bound to get kicked out in the second stage if she just starts crying after a bad dream."

They moved on, still laughing as if she was a joke, there for their own personal amusement. But Eric was beyond that by now, beyond caring about them. He just needed to know she was okay.

In seconds flat, he was out the cafeteria, his breakfast lying half eaten on the table and curious glances following him. He was walking fast, his feet hitting the ground at a pace that didn't draw too much attention to himself, but soon enough he didn't care, and he began to run in the direction of the dormitory. If he had _hurt _her – Eric saw red and almost turned around to beat the truth out of Cain.

He only slowed when the door to the initiates' room came into sight. He stopped outside it, listening for any signs that she might be hurt before he burst in. Everything was silent. Blatant fear made his skin crawl and he opened the door slowly, bracing himself for the worst.

At first, it looked like the room was empty. There was no sign of her, no sign of anyone other than the odd piece of clothing lying on someone's bed. Then he saw her.

She was curled up on her bunk, smaller than he had ever seen her. Her head was buried in her knees with her arms wrapped around her lower legs. Her shoulders shook slightly – but there were no sobs that he could hear. She was so silent.

He took careful, tentative steps towards her, as if he were approaching a caged animal. He didn't know what had triggered this, but he was glad he was the one who had found her, not another member of Dauntless. Had this been anyone else Eric probably would have mocked them for not being Dauntless enough to deal with something – but not her. He didn't want to mock her.

He had no idea as to what caused this, but he wanted it _gone. _He wasn't sure what he was feeling at all when he was around her, but he cared for her – that much he knew – and he hated whatever was causing her this pain. Maybe it was the same reason that her eyes didn't shine like they should, or why she didn't speak at first when she came here. If it was, it must be bad, and he wanted it out of her life. He didn't want her to experience this kind of hurt ever again.

Eventually he was stood right by her side, and from the way she flinched at his presence he knew that she knew he was there. She didn't acknowledge him any further.

Slowly, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. He had no experience with situations like this, with how to calm someone down. He had never signed up for this – but strangely, he didn't mind. He just wanted her to be okay.

She didn't push his hand away, nor did she stop crying.

Eric's next move was not something he planned on doing, but it was more instinctual. Carefully he placed his other hand on her back, feeling the tremors than ran along her spine with every shallow breath she took. He brought her towards him slowly, first, simply pressing her into him, then eventually wrapping his arms around her small frame entirely and simply just holding her.

She shook in silence, tears running down her face and wetting her brown hair. He could feel the warmth radiating from her body as it pressed against his, and a rush of what felt like electricity coursed through him as soon as they touched. His skin felt alive with nerve endings, reacting only to her. He had to remind himself that he was here to comfort her, not to take advantage of her.

She began to shudder less and less, until she was entirely still in his arms. By this time, she was sitting on her top bunk, curled up into a ball and pressed into Eric's torso side-on, her arms wrapped around his chest as best as possible, though she was so small in comparison that she couldn't properly hug him back. He practically cradled her where she lay, his long, muscled arms folding her into him. He didn't want to let go; she never wanted to move from her position.

Eric had never held anyone in this way, to comfort them, or simply to hug them. Not even his own mother had shown him this sort of gentleness, nor his father. He hadn't even thought it of himself – but here he was. He hadn't been prepared to do this, he had expected to just check and see if she was okay. Then leave. He hadn't expected _this, _but oddly, he didn't mind.

She was completely calm in his arms, finally at ease, although she had never felt more alive.

Daringly, Eric pulled away from where his chin rested upon her head, looking down at where her head was pressed into his chest. One of his hands came up to brush her hair out of her face.

"Nightmare?" He asked hesitantly. She nodded.

He pulled her back to him. He didn't know what would happen after this, or where they would go from here. But he did know this: there was no way he could back out of this now. He took the final step into this and he could not take it back if he regretted it. But he didn't think he'd regret it... not really.


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm ill. Ugh. Hello anyway. I'm off school, which is nice... but less nice because I had to go in anyway yesterday just to sit my maths exam...fun. **

**So it looks like you guys enjoyed Eric's POV in the last chapter, so I think that will become a thing from now on. Every now and again there'll be a chapter from his view. I certainly liked writing it... especially that bit where's he's just holding her... swoon.**

**Well, this is the next chapter! Enjoy! **

ANNA

I'm not sure what this makes us.

To be completely honest, I'm not sure of anything at the moment.

Up until now, I've never known anything but what it is to be broken. To have my childhood – the foundations of my life – shattered into a million pieces and auctioned off. I've known what it feels like to close your eyes and never want to open them again – to pray that one day, they'll just remain shut. I know what terror there is in trying to get to sleep in a house where there's someone with the ability, and probably want, to hurt or even kill me. I used to be so scared all the time. I know what it feels like to be _so tired, _both physically and mentally for no apparent reason. I've had my dreams cut down and destroyed by the one person I should have been able to rely on.

But now – now it's so different. I feel _alive_, like my entire body is buzzing. I feel like every nerve is standing on end, any touch electrifying me in ways that I thought had long gone along with any happiness I had at the beginning of my life. I finally remember what the feeling of having butterflies feels like, and I love it.

I don't know where I stand with him. And I don't know what I mean to him. But what I do know is that every time I think of him, and wonder how long he's been on my mind, I realise that he never left. Every time my thoughts wander to him, all I know is that I want to be near him.

I don't know how long we are together, him standing, me curled into him, but it's not long enough. And I never want it to end.

…

Eric and I sit together in the cafeteria. Everything up until here is a blur, vague memories of untangling ourselves and sharing awkward looks and eventually deciding to come here float at the back of my mind – but they're not my focus. Eric and I. Sitting together.

It was a mutual decision, shared through glances instead of words.

The cafeteria is almost empty, which I'm glad for. Being visiting day, almost everyone is in the pit greeting their family, or at another faction, which I can guess is the cause for the lack of people. But those who are there don't even bother to mask their stares. Heat rises in my cheeks and I look down at my food, my hair falling on front of my face to hide my embarrassment. I'm sitting with a Dauntless leader – not to mention, the most feared and intimidating man in the city, and we're eating breakfast together.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eric look towards me. He frowns, looking around the room and I smile a little as I see him glaring daggers at the table across from us, the people at which are obviously staring.

I'm still not over what happened this morning. The nightmares were more intense, far scarier than usual and I just couldn't cope with it. I had tried so hard not to cry, terrified that if I started I would never stop. Cain had been there too – he had seen me struggling, and his malicious grin at the sight of me holding back tears made everything worse. I can only imagine how much worse he pictures me now – I used to be second in the rankings, the girl who beat everyone except for him, but that status was all for nothing now that he's seen me cry. I'm just the scared Amity girl again. Maybe I never changed.

I can only guess the nightmares were worse because it's visiting day today. It makes sense – on the day that I should be spending time with my parents.

I shudder at the vivid memories that swarm my brain. Eric's eyes dart back to me. I can see the calculating look behind his eyes,

"Are you okay?" He asks me. My stomach does back flips at the deep, gravelly sound of his voice. How have I never noticed how lovely his voice is before?

"I will be," I respond, but I don't know whether my answer is truth or hope.

Suddenly uncomfortable, I'm hyper-aware of all the stares I'm getting again. I clear my throat and brush down my clothes, clearing them of imaginary dust. Hurriedly, I get to my feet and look back down at my plate. It's untouched, but I've gone longer without meals.

Eric follows suit and stands beside me. We leave together, me trying my best to ignore the stares that follow us and him glaring at anyone who does.

It's an unspoken agreement – we don't leave each other. Instead, we wander around the compound. It's the type of exploring I always wanted to do, but for fear of getting lost never did. But now I'm with Eric, who knows his way around, I don't have to worry about that. As we walk, I begin to forget about the horrible nightmares and memories, instead trading them for thoughts about Eric. Occasionally, he'll point out a random fact about this certain part of the compound, and I'll always listen carefully, absorbing his every word. It feels so normal, so right that what happened this morning seems like a distant memory.

I wonder if Eric has today off, given that it's visiting day, or if he's just neglecting his duties. I hope for the former, though the idea of Eric skipping work just to spend time with me gives me butterflies and makes my cheeks flush.

Hours pass by and before I know it I've spent the entire day in his company, entirely at ease and comfortable. We end up by the chasm, which seems to have become my safe haven. Leaning against the cool rock, I slide to the ground, tired, yet never happier. Eric does the same, and for a while we sit there in silence. Then he speaks up.

"You'll be expected to face one of your worst fears tomorrow," He states. I remember when Eric and I were trapped in the weapons cupboard, how he had revealed a little information about stage two. How he had said they would get to see inside of my head. "Do you have any idea what it might be?"

_Yes. "_No."

"Are you ready?"

"Is anyone ever ready?" I ask him.

"I guess not," He replies.

Silence falls again, but it's not uncomfortable. I can feel my eyelids starting to feel heavy, so I let them close briefly. Before I know it my head is on his shoulder and my eyes shoot open, but I'm too tired to move it away, even when I feel him tense up beneath it. Tentatively, his arm wraps around my side and pulls me close. I can feel him start to relax, so I let myself get comfortable and close my eyes again.

…

We sit in a long, dark corridor, far quieter than any aspiring Dauntless should be. I expected that the Dauntless borns at least would be acting as usual, but even they are unnaturally unresponsive. Every now and again someone's name is called, and they stand to leave. If you look closely, you can almost always see their hands shaking as they clench their fists to try and hide their fear. They pass through a door at the end of the corridor – one which they don't return out of. Sometimes it takes longer than usual for the next name to be called. Sometimes you hear muffled shouts. There's always extra fear after those times.

I wonder if this is the real test – the dread. Sure, we're meant to face out fears. Eric told me as much. But the build up is always so much worse. When you know something bad is coming, but you're not sure how, or in what form. When you don't know what to expect except the worst. If this is the real test, it's crueller than whatever can be in that room.

Another name is called. I don't bother to listen to who it is, but as I look up briefly I can see June, walking along towards the door. Her eyes are focussed in determination, but I can see the way she swallows in fear. Her steps look shaky and I'm beginning to wonder if she's going to fall, but she reaches the door. It opens. She disappears.

There's not so many of us left now. Most of the Dauntless borns went first, although I know Fern and Adam were called at one point because they had to leave from where they sat beside me. After that sitting became too irritating, so I paced instead.

There's no noise coming from behind the door at the end of the corridor. It's eerily silent, and at this point any kind of shout or scream would have been a greater comfort. Five, ten minutes pass and the next name still isn't called. I'm worried for June – she's taking longer than usual.

But soon enough, the agonising wait ends and my name is called.

I take my steps toward the door, but the corridor seems to stretch out on front of me. Fear clouds my judgement and all I want to do now is run, just run and probably hide too. But I keep on walking, forcing myself to put one foot on front of another as the unusually loud sound of my footsteps echoes around the almost empty space.

Eric and Four wait for me behind the door. Four has his back turned to me, but he's preparing something. I don't think I want to know what. Eric's eyes meet mine and I immediately relax at the familiar steel-grey colour. He gestures towards the centre of the room, and I pull my gaze away from him long enough to notice a chair sitting in the middle. My eyes blow wide as I realise that this is the same kind of chair that I was put in during my aptitude test – are they going to put me through a _simulation? _And Eric said I'd be facing my worst fears... oh God.

"Initiate," Four greets. "Congratulations on making it past stage one. Today, you'll be facing one of your worst fears in the form of a simulation. To escape it you must slow your heart rate. Try to take the least amount of time possible and don't do anything unexpected."

_Don't do anything unexpected. _The threat hovers thickly in the air, and I can't help but wonder, _does he know? _The administrator for my aptitude test told me that simulations affected Divergents differently than it does normal people. Is that what he's talking about?

I dismiss the thought. There's no way Four knows about me. I'm probably just searching for a double meaning.

I walk on my unsteady legs to the chair and try to let myself relax into it, but I can't seem to become less tense. It all becomes worse when I see Four turn around with a massive needle.

He hands it to Eric, who turns to me with a stone cold face. I almost worry about how quiet he's being, how unfriendly, but my fears go out the window as he brushes my hair away from my neck, and whispers as he injects me with the needle.

"The trick is to breathe deeply. Think of something happy and you'll be out of it in no time. Good luck."

I look up at him in surprise but there's no sign he ever said anything, so much so that I wonder if I imagined it. He turns back to Four as I wait for the simulation to start.

_The simulation takes me to my old room at Amity. I stand up wearily and take a look around – if this is the simulation, it's got every detail perfect. I can even see the apple orchard if I look out my window._

_Then I realise – I'm in my old room at Amity. That means that Alexander will be here. No. This isn't how I wanted anyone to find out. I wanted to be able to tell people in my own time, if I ever wanted to, not have them find out from a simulation! Alarm courses through me as I realise Eric is watching this – he's going to find out. I considered the possibility of telling him one day, if we got any closer, but that idea is completely diminished now._

_A loud bang brings me back to my senses. Panic flares up inside me as I realise it must come from Alexander's fist. It's coming from my door, which I can see rattling under the impact. It's Alexander, and he's coming for me. My insides clench in fear – I've been through this so many times. I don't know if I can do it again. I have to get out. I have to. The wooden door doesn't look like it will hold long against his attack. Suddenly, hiding under my bed like I did as a child seems like a very appealing option. _

_Another loud bang sends the whole floor quaking. I frantically turn away from the door and survey the room to see if there's anything I can do to make it hold longer. My small, wooden bed sits in the middle of the room, the quilts a deep red and wearing thin. I rush behind it and start shoving it towards the door, during the process of which another two large thuds hit the door._

_I need to get out of this simulation before Alexander breaks through the door and Four and Eric learn more than they need to. This already pretty conspicuous, it would be so much worse if they actually saw the man himself._

The trick is to breathe deeply, _I remember. Eric's words._

_I head over to the corner of the room furthest away from the door. I slide down the wall and into a crouch, bringing my hands up to cover my ears and close my eyes. I focus on my breathing, the erratic pattern of it and try to slow it down. I think of the happiest memories I can – though any that are with my real parents are long forgotten. So I go to the next best thing: Eric. I visualise how we spent all of visiting day together, how he held me when I was upset, how he carried me back to his room after we were locked away in the weapons cupboard. I focus on his face, the usually bitter cold expression that turns softer when our eyes meet._

"_It's not real," I whisper to myself, tears springing to my eyes, so quietly even I can barely hear it. As the thumping sound begins to get quieter, I hear one loud smash as the door breaks down._

I wake, heaving and gasping for breath. I clutch the edge of the chair so hard that my knuckles begin, whilst searching around the room in an attempt to see where I am. I calm instantly as I see Eric, but he holds a confused expression that has me worried.

"That was very fast, initiate," Four states. He looks equally confused. "You took roughly four minutes while the other initiates took roughly ten, more, even."

I stare blankly at him, my chest still heaving. The room feels too small, like it's trapping me from getting out. I suppress the need to panic. I didn't think I would be affected like this.

For a minute, no one says a single word. Then, Eric speaks up.

"You can go now, Anna."

I leave without hesitation, noticing that there is a back door to the room which must be where all the other initiates left out of. I hurry along the Dauntless corridors, until I break out into a run, sprinting somewhere – _anywhere – _that's away from that room. I've heard stories of the initiates affected so badly by stage two that they went mad and threw themselves into the chasm. I always thought that because of what I've been through, the pain of my childhood, that I would be stronger than this, that I would be strong enough to get past anything the world threw at me because I'd already been through the worst. But now it seems like I've been strong for too long – and I can't help but wonder if this stage will be the one to catch me out. To take me down.

I never want to go through a simulation again, but I know I have to. And soon, too.


	17. Chapter 17

Hey guys, sorry if you thought this was a new chapter. It's not.

So it's been a long time since I posted, eh? Well I guess I can explain.

So a lot happened this past year while I was gone...for one, I got a boyfriend. He turned out to have a variety of mental health issues - I had to cope with those, as I was the only one he told. Basically I kept him alive until I convinced him to get help himself, and now he's thankfully doing a lot better. Our time together was fantastic nevertheless, though I'm sad to say that we decided to end it yesterday. However, the strain that I was under the whole time led me to developing some serious mental health issues of my own, which I'm still struggling to reach out and get help for. That's really the main reason I haven't been posting, but I'm dealing with exams too at the moment, so it's a bit of a struggle to write.

Despite this, I was still clinging on to Eric and Anna whose story I love and still want to finish, so I'm taking my recent breakup and hopefully making it something more productive. I think you'll be saying hello to a new, and very exciting chapter very soon (if there's any of you actually left - are there? Come say hello to me if you still get alerts on this story, it would brighten my day).

So that's my sob story/rant out the way, thanks for listening and I can't wait to share more of Anna and Eric's story with you guys.


	18. Chapter 18

**New chapter, as promised. Come leave a review, come talk to me!**

ANNA

_A red haze fills the air, making it almost impossible to see. Smoke hovers in a dense cloud all around me, masking the sharp, flaring lick of the flames but failing to hide the light they emit, leaving the room cast a strange, saturated colour of orange. Shadows flit across the room in a sinister dance, playing tricks on my eyes and leaving me searching for another sign of life that had never existed._

_I spin around desperately, my hands out on front of me feeling the air around me for a way out. The space I'm stuck in seems to be endless – I've been trying to get out for what has to be a good five minutes by now and still there's no sign of an exit. Occasionally sparks burst from the ceiling, where I assume light bulbs were, showering me in tiny sprinkles of light that cling to me, burning my skin, before they go out._

_I'm trying to force down the panic, to swallow my fear before it consumes me and I break down, but I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out. I know that I'm taking too long, that my simulation time is running up and up and before long I'll be behind everyone else, divergent or not. The thought of it is making everything else so much worse – because I've tried calming myself down, I've tried breathing deeply and thinking of good memories and it's not working. I can't concentrate, I can't focus – and I know that I won't manage much more of this._

_I grope forward in the air some more, but at the same time my foot catches on something and I crash painfully to the ground. I put my hands out before me to fall on, and they skid along the ground, the skin catching and tearing. I grit my teeth together and push myself up again, but my knees collapse beneath me and I am brought down again. The sudden movement has me taking deep breaths, but even the simple task of breathing is hindered by the heavy smoke and I am left with a hacking cough. I draw in a rasp, but have to stop when I start choking up blood. I spit it out at the ground, wiping my mouth hastily with one hand. My heart is beating so fast I feel like it could explode out of my ribcage any moment now._

_I'm going to die here – it doesn't matter that this is a simulation, I am going to die here and there's no way I can escape it._

_Just when I'm about to give in, as I decide that I've fought enough, the screams start._

_The tortured sounds ring in my head, and I claw at my ears in a fruitless attempt to get them to stop. They don't stop – in fact, they seem to only get louder and louder, until I'm burying my head in my arms, my fingers tearing through my hair and my eyes are scrunched up. I want to cry – I want to break in such a way that I can't feel the pain or the fear or the hurt any more because surely this is too much – surely, they can't allow this to go on much longer. I've been in here too long, they have to pull me out soon. They have to – or I'm not sure what I'll do._

_One particularly loud, piercing scream echoes through the smoke. I recognise it instantly – it's one that's run through my mind again and again, driving me mad with grief and guilt. It's my mothers. And of all things, of all of my past, what I've been through, that would be the one thing I have always hoped never to hear again._

"_No," I whisper. "Please, no, not again."_

_The screams don't stop, they just get louder. I can recognise my father's, my mother's, everyone who I ever cared about. The shadows that move across the room play tricks on me, and I'm left reeling in confusion and hope and an endless mess of other emotions that I can't even hope to name._

"_Mom-" I croak, reaching out to where I saw some movement. But it's a mistake, a stupid trick played on me by my broken mind._

"_Please," I beg. "Please make it stop!" I don't know who I'm calling to, who I'm asking for help – whether it be Eric, or Four, or anyone, any_thing_, else, but there's no response. It just continues. I bring my fists down hard onto the floor that I've fallen on, then drawing them close to myself as I scream into the ground. This wasn't supposed to happen – I'm supposed to be Divergent, I'm supposed to be able to cope with simulations, know how to get out of them. Why isn't it working?_

_I force myself up off the ground and stare into the space around me, my hands coated in blood and scratch marks down my cheeks that I made myself. I stand on shaky legs, but I make myself stagger forward in one last try to get myself out of here._

"_Make it stop!" I scream, and as I do the smoke and the fire is in a whirlwind around me, the sound of it roaring in my ears. I can hear the sound of glass shattering, sparks rain down on me and one last blinding flash of light explodes around me before it all ends._

…

When I wake from the simulation, I don't bother opening my eyes. I don't want to see Four or Eric, or the expressions of pity I can expect on their faces. They saw the whole thing, and I know there's no coming back from something like that.

I slide off the chair, my feet hitting the floor with a small thud. I can tell neither Four nor Eric know what to say, but I'm thankful for their silence.

"You can leave now, Anna," I can hear Four say, but his dismissal is unnecessary as by then, I'm already out the door.

…

"Come on, Anna," I can hear Gabe say. He stands with June next to my bunk in the initiate dormitory. Adam and Damien wait at the door. We're the only ones in the room, but it already feels too full.

"Yeah, don't let me be the only girl!" June exclaims. I don't know how they can be so cheerful after what we're put through on an almost daily basis, but maybe they were stronger than me all along. Maybe only true Dauntless get through stage two like they do. Maybe I've already failed.

"You're not the only girl, Juney!" Damien calls from the door. "Gabe makes two!"

I can hear muffled laughter, and then a small 'ow!' that obviously comes from Damien. But I don't move from where I lie, staring at the ceiling, even for the joke. How can I laugh with them when I'm falling so far behind – when I'm being tortured with simulations that cast me back to my childhood, or being forcibly reminded of the way my parents died, and how I'm to blame for it?

"Sorry guys," I say, my voice an emotionless whisper that should upset me more than it does. "I just don't feel like going out tonight. Maybe next time?"

"Sure," June says slowly, but I can hear the question behind it. She's worried, and while normally I would be grateful of her worry for me, now I just can't stomach it. With the way I'm falling behind in training, I don't really deserve her worry. "Next time."

They leave, sharing jokes and laughter, goading each other into doing ridiculous things and suggesting drinking games. I yearn to be with them, to let their banter distract me for at least a minute, but I know it won't do. I'll only dampen their mood with my own, or get caught up in my jealousy of how well they're doing and do something stupid. I can't trust myself with my emotions any more.

I'm failing, and I know it. Stage two has gone on for roughly a week now, and each simulation is getting worse and worse. My times are getting longer, now triple the time I took when I went into my first simulation. Before I go in, I'm a shaking mess, my legs barely supporting my body, and after them, I'm hollow, my mind plagued with memories of screams, fires and fists pounding against doors. Which each new torture, I can feel myself falling deeper into a dark pit.

Frankly, I'm amazed at how quickly everything can go wrong.

Just a week ago, I was second on the scoreboard. I had a great group of friends to be with, I was even getting closer to Eric. Now I can't even bear to think about where I lie on the list, I'm ignoring my friends and I haven't spoken to Eric apart from when he gave me that small piece of advice before my first simulation.

I can't imagine it will be long before I'm kicked out of Dauntless for being such a coward. I promised myself before I came here that I wouldn't get too attached to people, and already I'm seeing that I was right. I've let my guard down too much, and now I'm falling behind and there's nothing I can do. Everyone else is succeeding – thriving, even. They have no problems with this stage and they're getting past their simulations with faster and faster times. I'm beginning to feel like I'm drowning behind their success. I hate the panicked feeling of failing.

I turn onto my side and try to sleep, though I know if I do actually manage to, I'll be awake in no time thanks to nightmares.

…

Weeks fly by, and as many simulations go along with it. My friends aren't even that anymore, it's as if they barely tolerate me at best. At the start they were clearly worried, but now it seems that they've just given up. At times I find myself wondering if I should tell them what's going on, how I'm coping with the simulations, but at that point I'm always struck with the reminder that if they wanted to know, they could just look at the scoreboards. Which, from their pitiful looks, I know they have.

It simultaneously enrages and kills me that they presume that I'm failing for the same reason as the others who are – the desperation that claws for me to tell them that I'm not _weak_, I'm not a failure, and that I have reasons for doing as badly as I am are overshadowed by the doubt and hopelessness I feel every time I emerge from one of those nightmares.

I don't have to face my friends every time a simulation finishes. I can choose to hide in the dormitory, skip dinner that night, or decline every time they ask me to hang out, chances are they won't care anyway. But the one person I can't avoid after the simulation ends is Eric. He's always there, his broad shoulders leading to muscles that roll so smoothly down his arms, his hulking figure making the room so full that I find him inescapable. I see him everywhere, like my eyes were trained to spot him, my ears tuned in to the heavy thump of his thick leather boots hitting the compound floor. His presence is both heart-breaking and intoxicating, just seeing him sends me instantly back to the simulation room, yet I also find comfort in watching his deft and precise manner of movement, hearing the stern and authoritative way he talks.

I know that at a time like this my feelings for Eric must go ignored and unacted upon. I can hope that this will remain a childish crush at the most. However, it remains a given that Eric is the only thing that can distract me from the hollow feeling of emptiness that has seeped into my body. The rush I get when I see him is the only thing I know that still lets me feel _something_, something that isn't the dark state I've fallen into ever since they started torturing me with simulations.

But what if…what if Eric isn't the only thing that makes me feel alive.

…

I always found solace in the chasm. I could hear the rushing water gushing past the rocks and stones and afterwards the somehow fluid crashing sound as it found an obstacle in its path. The chasm always calmed me, soothed me if I cried, helped me sleep when I couldn't.

But now, the thundering sound of the water plays like music to my dulled senses. I've never felt more awake – the damp smell of bits of rotted wood and corroded rock tingles in my nose and the darkness encapsulates the entire area – or is encapsulated by – and draws me in, tempting me to the alluring spot right by the railing.

I wrap my fingers around the cold, rusty railing and grip on tight, the heat drawn out of them within seconds. My feet are firmly planted on the ground but my legs shake, racking shivers all up my body. I can feel the muscles in my arms clench as I grip tighter and my knuckles turn white at the pressure. My hair is matted to my face – a bad night's worth of sleep – and covers one of my eyes partially, but I can still clearly see the dark abyss below me when I look over the only thing that is keeping me from certain death.

I could do it, I could jump now and never face a simulation again.

But that's not why I came here.

I climb up onto the first beam of the railing, the Dauntless shoes I wear a solid and non-sliding foundation for me to stand on. My quivering knees lean against the top beam, enough so that my body is supported enough not to fall over and off into the chasm, but so much so that if someone were to push me, or even if I was even to lose balance, the majority of my body weight would pitch me over the edge.

My chest heaves with deep breathes that I didn't know I had begun taking, and my heart is beating so fast I feel as if it is going to explode through my ribcage. My arms find a mind of their own and stretch out to either side of me, so it feels almost like I am flying. It's the most thrilling sensation.

...

I don't know how long I stand there, but eventually my stupor is broken by the sound of pounding feet on the path I just walked down. Before I can process enough to turn around and look, I am grabbed roughly by large, warm hands that can wrap almost entirely around my wiry arms and I am yanked down from where I stand and put clumsily on the ground. My feet struggle to find a place to stand but I don't need to worry about that because the hands don't let go, they just hold on tighter.

My jaw trembles with a cold that I didn't realised had seeped into me, but now that I am grounded, I can feel the sticking of my clothes – wet from the occasional spray of water from the chasm – the light pinching in my cheeks from where they are presumably flushed and the way my entire body seems to shake to its core. But none of it seems to matter, not when I know who is standing in front of me simply from the smell on his clothes, the way he stands. Eric.

I look up to his face, finding his hair mussed and unusually unruly, as if he had just woken from sleep. His piercing steel eyes are gaunt, surrounded by dark shadows and his lips are parted slightly as he takes gulps for air.

It is then that I notice his hands resting on the subtle curve of my hips.

Every thought goes out the window as we make eye contact, and I am startled at just how _alive_ I feel now, more so than when I was standing over the chasm, and I realise – this, _Eric _is what I've needed this whole time.

So I lunge forward, my hands reaching for the back of his neck and press my lips to his.

He springs to life, his hands snaking up past my waist and up to my back, pressing me firmly against his solid body. I can feel every muscle beneath my exploring hands, running all over his back, down his arms and coming around to sit against his chest. Our lips mash together in a wild frenzy, desperate for something we've waited for for months.

A slight growl escapes his lips as he pushes me up against the nearby wall, my back hitting it with a thud but his hand safely behind my head so I don't get hurt. His mouth attacks my neck, leaving a hot trail of wet kisses that leave me breathless, and grabbing for him, pulling him back to meet my own lips.

He breaks away, holding my head between his hands and staring me down. Our breath mingles in the space between us.

"I..I've wanted to do that for a long time," He breathes. I nod, my lips quivering from the savagery his lips just performed on mine. I cleared my throat, mustering up some confidence to speak,

"Then why did you stop?"

He pounces.


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey friends, more updates! I'm on a roll! As always, come talk to me, leave a review, drop a follow – it would make my day! (Also so much drama in this chapter I hope you like)**

ANNA

"-Your fear landscape. It is the final test a Dauntless initiate will face, and the one most struggle with. If you have been doing well in your fear simulations, you have nothing to fear. They will take place next week, so be prepared. You may go now." Eric finishes, looking across our small crowd of initiates with what appears to be disdain. I expect nothing less from Eric, not even after last night.

I blush at the memory.

A small part of me hoped he would acknowledge me somehow today, though I know it is stupid to get my hopes up. He cannot be seen to have favourites, otherwise people would doubt that I earned my place in the rankings...however low my current ranking may be.

Eric looks particularly grumpy today, and I can only assume it's because he's the one giving us instructions. Normally in situations like these Four would be the one addressing us, but strangely he isn't here today. Despite this I doubt it's anything important.

The initiates break into murmurs as Eric starts to leave, probably discussing the fear landscape. I would join them, but I'd rather see if I can spend some time with Eric. Just as I turn to leave, I feel a brush against my side and my eyes widen slightly as I hear the familiar gruff voice whisper in my ear.

"My room, ten minutes. Don't be seen."

I watch as Eric stalks away, following his hulking figure until he turns a corner out of sight. I can feel the hair on the back of my neck standing up, and I try to calm my breathing, even though I know it's a fruitless attempt. My lip trembles slightly as I realise I can still smell him, the hint of cologne with a stronger, metallic smell. This time it will be just the two of us, in a more private place than the chasm...my nerves peak as I realise what could become of the situation. But surely he wouldn't want to yet...although a man like Eric must have all sorts of experiences.

I shake my head at my silliness. It's stupid to worry about something like that. I know I can trust Eric, given all the times he's been there for me. He wouldn't pressure me into anything. I know him. I trust him.

I put on a smile and turn to follow him, but instead of walking away from the rest of my fellow initiates I walk straight into June, our heads banging with a painful _thud._

I curse, reaching a hand up to my throbbing forehead and June following suit.

"So what was that about, huh?" June asks, after the pain begins to fade. One of her eyebrows is raised, a perfect arc that I envy her ability to create with makeup. Her dark blue eyes shine with curiosity and I fluster, realising she must have seen my interaction with Eric. My cheeks flame and I take a step back, trying to get out a response or even a scoff, but only manage to stutter out a few words. Suddenly, her scowl transforms into a too-wide grin, her purple hair falling forward to cover her face as she laughs.

"So you and Eric, then?" She giggles, and I'm struck by just how young she really looks. It's difficult to see everyone else here, my _rivals, _as anything other than just that, where in reality we're little more than teenagers. June especially, with her many piercings and angular features appears more adult than the rest of us. "I guess someone had to do it, right?" She continues as she claps one hand on my shoulder.

"Right...em," I squirm, struggling to find the right words. I want to ask her not to tell anyone, but I don't think I need to with June. I can tell she wouldn't anyway. Mentally, I breathe a sigh of relief. It would have been so easy for her to assume that I was sleeping with Eric to bring up my ranking, and I'm grateful that she knows me better than to make guesses about my actions. Though needless to say her realisaion has me biting my lip and looking down at the ground as I try to find something else to talk about. Instead of giving in to her, I latch onto the first piece of information I can find.

"What about you then?" I taunt, trying to redeem my embarrassment, "You and Damien? Its not like I'm going to pretend I haven't seen the way you look at him!"

June barks out an even louder laugh, earning a few stares from some other initiates. After a good minute of laughing at me and making me feel like a living candle out of humiliation, she sobers up, looking at me incredulously.

"You-you're kidding, right?" She asks, but my expressionless face must give her the answer she's looking for. "Anna – I'm _gay. _I like _girls."_

I splutter, embarrassment heating my cheeks once more. I can't believe it – but then I remember all the flirty looks between June and other girls, all the signs I've been completely oblivious to.

"_Shit – _June I didn't realise, crap I'm sorry -" I blurt out, but she's laughing more and already turning to go speak to Gabe who approaches us with a look of mild amusement on his face.

"Don't worry about it girl, go find your man!" She giggles. I laugh anxiously, before making my escape.

Still trying to calm my humiliation, I walk down one of the corridors slowly, hoping to bring down the red in my cheeks before I see Eric. I'm about to turn off down the corridor leading to the apartment area of the compound when I hear hushed voices whispering, and I slow to a halt. My curiosity spikes despite myself, so I shuffle forward to the corner so that I can listen in easier.

"_-Another _murder?!" It's a male voice, one that takes me a minute to register, having not heard it in weeks – _Zeke._

"Keep your voice down!" Hisses the other, which I instantly recognise as Four, his deep voice having been lecturing me about techniques in my fighting for months I feel guilty for listening in instantly, but it's near impossible for me to walk away now without finding out more. My brain replays the words again and again like a broken record – _Another murder. _The words themselves create countless questions that I'm not sure I want to know the answer to. The most concerning thing is - there haven't been any murders that have made the news lately, only accidental deaths or suicides.

"I'm guessing this one had a file too, didn't he?" Zeke replies, his voice little more than a whisper and I strain my ears to keep listening.

"I can't tell, I only saw a few of the files on Eric's death and I didn't see his.." The voices trail on, but I'm done listening. I stumble backwards, then turn on my heal and run down the corridor I came down. I'll take another way to Eric's.

Thoughts are rushing through my head too fast for me to make sense of them. The files I saw on Eric's desk that one night after we got locked in the weapons cupboard...the files where every name was labeled 'suspected divergent'. And the file of Camille Maiers, the girl who died by suicide – but now I'm starting to question if it was even that. Are all these recent deaths actually murders? And why does Eric have the files of the victims on his desk?

My head is a mess by the time I reach Eric's door. I knock once, and he opens the door almost immediately. I'm surprised by the smile I find on his face, the excitement I can see glistening in his eyes. It almost makes me forget everything I just heard, having Eric finally to myself, having him happy to see me. I want to give in to him, just kiss him until I forget everything, but I can't yet. I have to discover the truth.

I step past him into his apartment. It's different from when I last saw him, cleaner. Books are strewn over his couch and as I look over to his desk I notice that the files that were once there were missing. A sinking feeling surfaces in my gut – were they hidden so that I wouldn't see them, or have all of the people with files been killed off?

Eric closes the door behind me, and I can sense now that he's tense, given my reaction to seeing him. I wasn't as happy to see him as he was to see me.

I turn to him as he runs a hand through his hair, and I'm slightly stunned to find him looking awkward, embarrassed even. It's so strange to see Eric looking so vulnerable, after all this time of seeing him as strong and unfeeling. It warms my heart slightly, but I still know that I have to stay on task.

I clear my throat, making to ask him about what I heard. But he gets there first.

"Would you like to sit?" He asks, gesturing to the couch. I nod, walking over slowly and sitting with hesitation. I'm barely sitting on the couch, as close to the edge as I can be. I don't remember the last time I was this uncomfortable around Eric, if I ever was in the first place.

I decide that it's now or never, and go right ahead with my questions.

"I saw the files," I start. His head turns sharply, his gaze no longer awkward but icy cool. I swallow before continuing, a lump forming in my throat. "I saw them when you brought me here that first time. And I saw the file of that girl – Camille Maiers – and then she was found dead the next day." I trail off, struggling to look him in the eye. If Eric really is the reason they're all dead, how can I trust him anymore? Tears spring to my eyes as I force myself to continue. "Would you care to explain?"

He opens his mouth, as if to say something, then closes something. I don't give him the chance to speak before I start talking again.

"And don't get me started on the other 'deaths'." I force my glare to be cold, unfeeling. The way it has been since I was taken in by Alexander, the way it stopped being after I got to know Eric. I have to get to the bottom of this – I have to know if Eric, the man I have strong feelings for, is involved in the murder of various divergents across the city. And if so – does he know about me? Would he kill me, just to continue with his plans?

I'm about to continue with what I heard Four and Zeke talking about before I realise that doing so would be putting them in danger, I don't know what Eric is capable of, and I wish I didn't have to find out.

"Am I supposed to assume that all of them were suicidal? Accidental? When I saw all of those files on your desk with their names on them?" - a small white lie, to protect Four and Zeke. Somehow, I still feel guilty about omitting that particular piece of information.

Eric's face has drained of all colour.

In two swift steps he's on the sofa next to me, tentatively taking my hand into his. He doesn't seem so big and tough now, his eyebrows furrowed and his teeth biting into his lips - lips I kissed so fiercely only hours ago. He looks scared, worried, for once. I try not to let it get to me that I made him feel that way, but it does anyway.

"I was hoping," He says, clearing his throat. His voice is rough, catching on every word like he doesn't dare speak them. "I was hoping that we could be us without having to get into that. That I could deal with my work life and my personal life separately, that you wouldn't need to be involved in all of this. But I guess knowing you, that would never have worked."

I turn to him, surprised at his honesty. I've barely noticed how close we've become since I've come to Dauntless, and our kiss... that merely allowed us to get closer, so express ourselves to each other. There's been so many instances where we've dealt with similar serious things already, and we got through those even before we were this close. I'm sure that this can be explained.

Eric looks physically pained as he continues, and I shift to him, putting my hand on his knee. His head jerks up to look me in the eye, as if he's surprised by the contact. I suppose it is the first time I've initiated any sort of contact like this. We're both getting used to this still.

"I'm working under Jeanine Matthews currently. It is her goal to remove any and all divergents from our city, so that we can continue to live as we do."

"And you agree with her?" I ask, more gently this time. He shakes his head.

"No- no, the murder of innocent people is never something I could agree with." His voice is even quieter, if possible. "My mother, she was Divergent."

The vulnerability in his voices is striking. I can feel the hurt, the anguish almost tangibly surrounding him. The level of trust that he's placing on me – I could never have anticipated this.

His voice turns to ice as he starts to speak again.

"She- she was murdered. By Jeanine on her hunt for divergents. And I want to _bring her down _ for what she did to my mother."

I hesitate before I finish for him.

"So you're working under her so you can destroy her?"

He nods.

I bring my arms up to wrap them around him, it's an apology, without words, for forcing him to tell me this. I didn't realise about his mother, and I wouldn't have pushed him to talk had I known. Guilt sweeps through me and I bury my head into his shoulder. His arms come down and reach around my waist, pulling me up onto him. I straddle his hips, my face resting in the crook of his neck. One of his hands rests on my back, rubbing slowly, soothingly. The other sits on my waist. It's nothing sexual, and I feel more comfortable now with this than I did before.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into his ear. He only nods.

We sit like that for a long time, holding on. I want to tell Eric about my divergence. I trust him enough not to put me in danger – but that's the problem. If I tell Eric this, and it is discovered that he knew, he could be harmed. I wouldn't want that.

After a while, Eric moves, and I sit up, looking directly at him. My eyes widen as I see the grin that's spreading on his face and I frown slightly as my own smile starts to spread.

"What?" I ask. He shakes his head, then pulls me close to him suddenly, so that his lips are right next to my ear. I can hear his breath, feel the warmth of it against the side of my face. My own breath hitches a little.

"I haven't kissed you today, have I?" He murmurs into my ear. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I shift slightly on his lap and he groans quietly.

And like that my mind fogs over and I give in to him once more.

…

Days fly by with me sneaking away after practice to meet Eric in secret. So far only June has found out about us and had it confirmed, though I'm sure the people working in security have seen enough make outs in corridors to know what's going on between the Dauntless leader and the initiate.

Almost without me realising it the night before the fear landscape approaches. I'm sitting with the other initiates at dinner when it hits me – this could be my last night here at Dauntless. My last night with Eric. If I fail this last test I'll be out on the streets with the factionless – and with no connections to other people, there's no way Amity could take me back, not that I'd want to go back there anyway.

A sudden wave of fear floods me and I feel like I am drenched, head to toe in an overwhelming sense of anxiety. This past week...my feelings for Eric have become something deeper as I've realised just how similar we are. I'm not ready to give that up.

I push my plate of food away, suddenly not hungry anymore. I feel heavy, walking out of the cafeteria. My brain feels muddy, and I frown heavily as I walk somewhere – I'm not quite sure where.

I don't realise where I'm headed until I find myself at one of the ways out of the compound and into the rest of the city. I suppose the fresh air will do me good.

I break into a light jog as I push past the doors to the exit and the cool night slams into me. It's easier, running, to clear my head. I don't have to think about anything or anyone as long as I keep going.

I'm rounding the corner as I break into the Erudite part of the city, the compound towering above the rest of the buildings. The building itself is plain, made entirely out of glass. It reminds me of a hospital. The grounds that I run by are so clean cut, precise that I struggle to imagine anyone being in them, let alone children playing in the grassy areas.

I continue running, the Erudite area giving me inexplainable chills. I'm a little breathless now, my cheeks pink and aching from the cold. I know I shouldn't be tired already, but after spending so much time with Eric I haven't been putting in as much training time. I make a mental note to fix that.

I'm so lost in thought that I almost don't notice a small shadow stepping out of sight as I make a sharp turn around a corner. I frown – a factionless? But they have no reason to be around the Erudite sector. Putting it down as nothing important, I shake my head and keep running. But I keep noticing the shadow that stalks my every mood, blending into the surroundings whenever I turn my head to look.

My face pinches as I realise that it is now undeniable that I'm being followed. Fear runs rampage through me, boiling my blood and making my heart tremour. What if someone found out I was Divergent?

I curse silently to myself as I run. This isn't how a Dauntless should behave, a Dauntless should turn around and face their fears.

Suddenly I stop, and turn on my heel so fast my head spins. And there, right behind where I was is my stalker.

I can see now that she's female, perhaps a little older than I am. She steps forward, a street lamp illuminating her figure. I recognise her instantly as the girl from the funeral, the Erudite sister of Camille Maiers. The one who knew my name.

She's a lot less well kept than when I last saw her, with her hair swept up elegantly. No, now her ginger hair is wind-blown and messy, tucked behind her ears to keep it out of her face. She's not wearing Erudite clothes either – no, now she's not wearing any one colour. Is she factionless? What the hell happened?

I storm over to her, grabbing her arm.

"Who the hell are you?" I demand. "Why are you following me?!"

Her dark eyes sweep over me in a single look.

"My name is Alana Maiers," She says, and her voice is calm, collected, despite her appearances. As if I were a wild animal to be comforted. "I'm from the Bureau of Genetic Welfare."


	20. Chapter 20

**I'm so sorry guys. I'm so sorry for this chapter.**

ANNA

The next morning, I am curled up in bed with Eric. After running into Alana last night, I unconsciously walked myself back to Eric's apartment. He let me in without question, and I fell asleep instantly on his bed.

Even as I lie next to Eric, the faint scent of his cologne dancing up my nose, my eyes prick with tears as I remember what Alana said.

"_It's not safe for any divergents here any more, we need to take you away. It's only a matter of time."_

I swallow, hard, the knowledge that I am going to have to leave Eric and my new life here hitting me like a wall again and again and again. I had tried to argue, told her that nobody knew about me – nothing of which succeeded. And after she left, I had collapsed to the ground and wept.

_I've still got time, _I remind myself. She didn't specify when I would have to leave, but the sad, pitiful look that she had on her face tells me that it's going to be soon. It makes me consider if going through my fear landscape today is even worth it.

_My fear landscape! _I think with a jolt. I had forgotten that was today, and I sit up quickly in bed. Eric groans beside me and turns to his beside table, turning on the light before glancing at the clock.

"Anna," He murmurs. "You're scheduled for this afternoon, you've got hours. Go back to sleep."

I look over to him, his eyes glazed with sleep and his hair pressed against the side of his face from where he was lying on it. One of his arms is still slung around my waist. A heavy cloud settles over my mind as I realise he doesn't know that the time we have left together is minimal, that this might be the last time we wake up next to each other. That I've never truly seen Eric this relaxed, this comfortable, and that I might never get to do so again.

I lie back down, resting my head on his chest, determined to enjoy these precious moments with Eric. I close my eyes and focus on the slight rise and fall of his chest, so deep in thought that I almost jump when one of his hands comes up to start stroking my hair.

"Are you worried about what might come up in your landscape?" He asks quietly. I nod my head, knowing that he will try to comfort me about this even though it is not what I'm concerned about.

A thought pushes its way into my mind and I tilt my head up to look at Eric. "Are you going to be watching the landscapes?" I ask. He nods slowly, his eyes locking with mine in an intense stare.

"Is that what you're nervous about? You know I wouldn't judge your fears, and I've already seen some of them in the simulations." His hand stops playing with my hair and comes down to cup my face, so that I cannot turn away. "You don't need to be worried about what I think, Anna."

We were told by Four that the fears in our fear landscapes would manifest slightly differently than in the simulations, that we'd be slightly more aware but because of that our fears would be more intense. My simulations never showed Alexander hurting me directly, but I'm struck by the sudden concern that my fear landscape might be slightly different.

With Eric watching...the idea that he might find out about what happened to me before I have the chance to tell him myself makes my head swim with sudden discomfort. With the thought of our imminent seperation in mind, I pull away from him, pushing the bed covers off me. I slide out of bed, my bare feet making a slapping sound as they hit the floor. I turn around to look at Eric, my heart melting at the concern shining in his eyes. He pushes himself up, his back resting against the wall.

"I want to tell you something before you watch my fear landscape." My voice is barely more than a whisper, but still somehow he hears me, his eyes never leaving mine. My words aren't at all humorous as I joke, "Well, I guess it's more like show."

I begin shaking, the weight of my secret seeming to double, triple, bearing down on my entire body, as if the force of gravity suddenly became too much for me to fight. As the first tear breaks through my exterior, my trembling hands clutch at the bottom of my black long sleeve. In one motion, I pull it over my head. The finality of what I've done strikes me like a blow to the gut as I hear the cloth hit the floor a few feet away.

I stand in front of Eric wearing only my sports bra and leggings, shaking as if I haven't eaten in days, tears rolling down my face. I make eye contact with Eric and shame sets my blood on fire, the flame burning behind my eyes as more and more tears start to fall.

The scars on my body stand out against the bright light glaring at them. My skin looks almost white, and I realise that I could have been beautiful, if it weren't for the thick, lumpy scars that seem to have been drawn on my skin like a child would have drawn lines on a page.

Eric breaks the stare first, his eyes trailing my torso, following the wirey lengths of my arms. His chest stops the rhythmic rising and falling that I'd previously found comfort in. Neither of us breaks the silence until -

A choking noise escapes his mouth and his face contorts, shock and fury taking control of his handsome features. His eyes fill and the sight fills me with a sudden surge of emotion – he _cares, _Eric _cares _and he _isn't digusted by me. _

I finally break with a whimper, my legs starting to give way beneath me as I weep, but he's out of bed in a flash and he's catching me, lifting me into his arms. I cry into his neck, gasping noises escaping me as I try to breathe through the tears. And I just know that I don't need to pretend around Eric any more, that I'm _safe. _

Eric doesn't move once in the time that we cling on to each other, instead he just stands, clutching me into his arms tightly as if he needs me as much as I need him.

…

Eric does not stop holding onto me once as we walk together towards my fear landscape. Not even as we walk through the pit, whispers following us as our hands clutch.

A part of me feels shattered, after revealing to Eric my greatest secret. Yet another part of me feels like it's been fixed – like now that I've let in Eric, now that he hasn't rejected me for what happened to me. I know now for sure that I have someone supporting me, no matter what happens. As I listen to my feet hit the compound floor, and the heavy thud of his leather boots sounding in time with mine, a surge of confidence roars through my chest. I may be divergent, but that will just give me an edge in my fear landscape. Despite what Alana said, they Bureau can't force me to come with them – I can keep up my pretense here, with Eric. Where I'm safe.

Where my home is.

All the other initiates are already waiting outside the room we will face our landscapes in. They turn at the sound of Eric and I arriving, and a few murmurs break out. But instead of being intimidated by them, by the possible rumours, I feel Eric squeeze my hand and turn his head to face mine. He smiles down at me, and I feel like nothing can stop me.

I let go of his hand and walk over to my friends, my head held high. To my surprise I am greeted by a hug from June, as if she can sense my newfound confidence. A hand claps on my shoulder and I don't jump in fright as I would have – I turn around to face Damien and Gabe, both of them grinning at me, a teasing spark in their eyes.

"So Eric, huh?" Gabe asks, the grin never leaving his face. I bite my lip and nod, my own smile growing wide.

Our happiness falters slightly as the next initiate is called for their fear landscape. But in the moment of silence, I take a step back and face all my friends – my family. I can fight the Bureau for this, and I can win. I don't have to go with them. Nobody has to know I'm divergent.

"Thank you," I murmur to them, "For having my back from the start."

The only response I get are more arms wrapping around me, pulling me in close.

We hold on to each other for a long time, until my name is called.

…

_I wake up, my back pressed against a cool surface. I keep my eyes closed and take deep breaths, a strong smell of metal shoving itself up my nose, and I furrow my brow in reponse. I bring my hands down to the ground, making to push myself into a sitting postion, but before I can a strong wind batters my side. I finally force my eyes open and recoil at the sudden brightness, but force myself to take in my bearings. Immediately I jerk backwards, my eyes widening at the sudden drop in front of me, but I find no comfort in the space behind me as one of my hand fumbles for a surface beneath my fingertips but finds only open air. I whip my head around and find that I'm on a small platform, surrounded by nothing but air. A steep drop greets every side of me and my breathing hitches as I try to force myself to remember that this isn't real._

_I close my eyes and force myself to focus on my breathing, trying to think of anything other than the death that awaits me at every turn. I can imagine that everyone will be shocked to see that I have a fear of heights, especially after being first jumper. But now that I have something to live for, the thought of dying terrifies me more than it should._

Eric, _I suddenly think. I make myself remember that once this is over, I'll be back in his arms. The thought makes the blood in my veins sing, and suddenly the fire coursing through me isn't one of fear any more. _

…

_I open my eyes immediately after the scenery changes. This time I know exactly where I am – a lump forms in my throat as I remember. The smell of smoke is asphixiating and I try to get my bearings, to see through the thick darkness surrounding me. I've dealt with this fear countless times, I know that I can deal with it again today._

_I can feel myself start relaxing after a few minutes of deep breathing, but look up in shock as I hear a different noise coming from my surroundings, one I haven't heard in this fear before._

"_Anna?" The voice sings, but it is not a joyful sound. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and tears spring to my eyes as I recognise the voice of my childhood. The fire that was burning somewhere in the distance seems to have set alight every single scar caused by the man who now calls my name and I feel them burn against my skin. _

_I have never faced these two fears at once – these two are the worst, and it seems like a cruel trick to make me endure both at once,when I am unprepared. _

_Alexander keeps calling my name, whispering cruel things to me. I can't pinpoint his location, and I bite my lip to keep out the sobs that threaten to burst from me. I can't make a noise. I can't let him find me._

_Instead, I curl into a ball on the floor and bury my head between my knees. I think about Eric, about June and about Damien and about Gabe. These are the people I can return to, I just need to get through this one. It can't get much more difficult than this. _

_It is with great diffiuclty that my heart finally slows its wild pace, and slowly but surely I can hear Alexander's voice become quieter._

…

_The next few simulations pass without too many issues, some new fears that I did not know I had coming to light. I know that I must be nearing the end as I wake up in my next fear._

_I try to turn my head, to open my eyes and see, but I find I cannot move. Instead, I am watching a scene and I gulp at the image in front of me._

_It's me, in bed with Eric. Thankfully we're both fully clothed and the position we're in is fairly innocent. _

_Fake me has her head resting on the pillow next to Eric's, her dark hair fanned out around her. She's holding Eric's gaze and they smile at each other – it's the perfect picture. It's one I can achieve – so why is it in my landscape?_

_Suddenly fake me speaks up, and I watch as her pink lips form words I never thought I'd speak. _

"_Eric...I need to tell you something," She says, loud enough for me to hear. Loud enough for anyone watching my landscape to hear. I struggle against my invisible restraints as I realise what she's about to say to everyone. _

"_Of course, Anna. You can trust me with anything," Fake Eric replies, and his voice is so understanding and soothing that I want to cry. If this happens – I can't let this happen, my secret can't get out. They'll take me away from my home._

_It feels like every breath I take is shredding my lungs as I am forced listen to fake me's reply._

"_I'm divergent."_

_It's as if I've suddenly been released, and I thrash as I collapse, screaming. This wasn't supposed to happen – but it's too late. My secret is out, and I cannot return to my life. I am going to be taken away from my family, from my Eric. A sob forces its way through my body and I keel over, my fists finding their way to the ground and hitting again, again, again. _

_It seems almost as if a seperate me is listening to fake Eric tell fake Anna that he can no longer be with her, because she was divergent. I suppose that is the original fear, being rejected by Eric for who I am, but this innocent fear is now the reason that I can no longer have the life I've started to build myself._

_I claw at myself, not looking to achieve anything other than relieve the pain. My nails dig into my scalp and I cry out in pain, but the sound dies in my throat as I am ripped from the simulation._

…

I wake up, gasping. My vision swims in front of me but I know instantly where I am, that the tears on my face are real. I struggle out of the chair I sit in, my legs threatening to give way beneath me but I force them to _run, _I need to get _out. _I don't allow myself to look around the room, at the crowd of people who would happily sign my death warrant, the people who would gladly execute me themselves for what I am. I do not let myself look at Eric.

I fly past the other initiates, who look at me in bewilderment. Of course, they don't watch my actual landscape, only my reactions to it.

_They don't know, _a sob breaks through me at the thought. My friends – how will they find out? When the Bureau fakes my death and I am hauled from the bottom of the chasm? Alana explained it all – most of the dead Divergents that were known of had their deaths faked before they could actually be killed.

I keep running, my feet pouding the ground until I hear the roar of the chasm. I slow to a halt, trying to listen to see if anyone has followed me, but the sounds of the sobs wracking my body makes it difficult to tell.

A voice startles me and I look up suddenly, my arms and legs instinctively going into a fighting stance. In my own home, where I have built my life, I am now under threat from everyone.

To my relief, but also pain, it is only Alana. She looks on edge, makeup smudged around her eyes, like she sprang into action unprepared.

"You have to come with us, _now," _She insists. I nod, my eyes refilling with tears.

"Please-" I beg, my voice breaking, "Just let me see Eric agains, I need to _explain-"_

She looks behind her, as if someone is watching us talk. She looks back to me, then nods once, sharply.

"You have an ten minutes, meet us at the south entrence. If you get yourself killed before that, it's your own dumb fault." Her words are bitter, like I'm an inconvenience to her plan.

"Thank you," I whisper, not even looking at her once before taking off running again.

…

It is a miracle, that Eric opens his door the first time I knock. I had no idea if he'd still be conducting the fear landscapes, or if they'd have been held up after what happened with me.

His eyes look hollow, unnaturally so. It's as if he just heard about the death of a loved one, although I guess this situation isn't entirely unlike that.

"Anna-" His voice cracks, as if he can't bear the weight of speaking.

I don't give him a chance to speak one more word before I crush into him, fitting my arms around his broad torso and clinging onto him as hard as I can. I try to focus on everything that makes this man in front of me Eric – the way he smells, the way he stands, the way his big hands rest too gentley on my lower back. The way he shakes, as if he is losing a battle against his own tears.

He backs us into his apartment, and it is almost too much seeing the familiar sight. I had been here only a few hours ago, revealing my secrets to him and receiving his acceptance, his care.

"I'm _so sorry," _I cry into his shoulder, the force of my tears causing me to shudder, and the grasp of his hands on me is the only reason I'm still standing. "I'm so sorry, I have to go- I have to _leave."_

He steps away, and I gasp at the lack of contact. He is shaking his head, and I see now for the first time the little droplets rolling down his face.

"We'll find somewhere, you can hide-" He pleads. He is hunched, his body begging me as much as his words. I shake my head, and he opens his mouth, gaping, as if trying to find the words to make me stay, but failing. "_Please, _Anna."

"I don't have long, I'm _so sorry," _I weep. But he doesn't move, and his face is the mask of pure shock. My whole body is quaking, the rumble before an eruption.

"I- I think I _love _you," He whispers.

Something breaks inside my chest.

I'll return to him one day, I'll find him again once the threat to my life is over. I'll tell him, those three life changing words. We'll be happy, we'll be together -

"I'm sorry," I tremble.

I take one last look at the man I had learned to love, and turn and exit his apartment.


End file.
